Variation on a Theme
by Scribbler
Summary: When Yuugi was ten, he gave away something to cement a friendship: The Millennium Puzzle. But the safety of the world needs the Puzzle solved, right? Well, yes. Yuugi's friend Anzu didn't realise what kind of gift she was accepting. [Sort of YYY]
1. Waking

**Disclaimer –** Kazuki Takahashi owns pretty much everyone, so this qualifies as textual poaching.

**A/N – **This is a collection of scenes from an alternate timeline of YGO. As such, I've taken for granted that readers know the basic structure of what happened when in the show. The fic only goes as far as the end of the _DOMA _arc (_Waking the Dragons _in the dub), because that's really only as far as I've _seen _and can write about with any amount of confidence.

**Feedback – **It's taken me over two months and a lot of agony to write, so reviews and reader feedback aren't just appreciated, they're _begged for_.

* * *

_**Variation on a Theme**_

© Scribbler, October 2005.

* * *

_But where is he, the Pilgrim of my song,_

_The being who upheld it through the past?_

_Methinks he cometh late and tarries long._

_He is no more – these breathings are his last;_

_His wanderings done, his visions ebbing fast,_

_And he himself as nothing: - if he was_

_Aught but a phantasy, and could be class'd_

_With forms which live and suffer – let that pass –_

_His shadow fades away into Destruction's mass._

-- Canto IV: Verse 164, from _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, by Byron.

* * *

It's said that people's personalities are fashioned from a combination of environment and genetics. Scientists disagree about how much of a role each one plays in shaping the average person, but they tend to agree that both are involved to some degree. It's not a fact, but that's useful, because it means you don't have to go to the trouble of disproving it if you need to. Facts are messy things. General assumption, while volatile in the wrong hands (like that of, say, a bloodthirsty mob carrying a rope and looking for a tree), is much easier to swallow.

What it all boils down to is this: Some people say you can be born good or bad. Some say you become one or the other depending on what happens to you and how you live your life.

Genes can be a get-out-of-jail-free card when it comes to bad behaviour. "It wasn't my fault. I'm just made that way!" You can't change your genes. A lot of people would say you can't change the rest of your life, either. Things happen to make you who you are – the kind of home you're born into, the friends you make, the rhetoric you hear, and even the sorts of television you watch. People can argue that your environment is about as changeable as your genetics, when you come right down to it. By the time you've figured out the impact of something on your life, you're already doing damage control. You only know it was important because you can see the after-effects.

Sometimes the stuff that affects you most is stuff you can control. You have choices, you make decisions, and your life opens out from there, like a box unfolding into a pathway of different coloured squares. Then again, sometimes you don't have any control at all. And sometimes the people you care about the most work the biggest changes in your life, even if they don't mean to.

How much of your life is predetermined? How much do you owe to your genes, and how much to luck? How much is down to you, and how much of your personality is in the hands of others? Can the tiniest of actions made by someone else really change who _you_ are?

Those, my friends, are the million-dollar-questions.

* * *

The first time Anzu saw the puzzle it was sitting in the middle of Yuugi's desk. It was less than half finished, gold and shining in the sunlight from his window. The scattered pieces reminded her of the Lego bricks she used to play with when she was small.

When she expressed an interest, Yuugi was all too glad to show it to her. It was, he admitted, a frustrating thing. His grandfather had brought it back from one of his digs as a souvenir, but a few months later had foisted it onto his grandson when it proved too time-consuming and difficult. Yuugi had spent long hours trying – and failing – to solve it, and even more just staring at it. Of course, he was hasty to add, that was before he met Anzu – before he had a friend to draw him from his bubble of loneliness.

Their friendship was the highest point in his life since his father died and his mother's breakdown made her move to the city. Anzu felt like she should be bothered that Yuugi put so much weight on it, but it wasn't like she had any reason to be creeped out by him. Yuugi was one of the few decent boys at school, and she sort of liked him – though not in a romance novel sort of way. He was quiet and humble and failed all his exams on the first try.

When she asked if she could hold the puzzle he all but thrust the completed section into her hands.

"It's pretty," she said, turning it over. It felt heavier than it should've.

"You can have it, if you like," Yuugi offered.

"I couldn't do that, it's too valuable! And your grandfather - "

"He won't mind. Honest. It's mine to do with what I want, and I want to give it to you."

Anzu was touched. It was, in a weird kind of way, the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. She got it out as soon as she'd had her evening meal, sitting at her own desk in her own bedroom with Yuugi's gold pieces scattered before her.

The puzzle was challenging. She could understand why Yuugi and his grandfather had never cracked it. She wasn't the best at solving puzzles herself, but she liked them. It might have been a throwback from spending so much time around Yuugi. He was a master at this sort of thing – a by-product of a childhood spent mostly on his own. The idea that she could do something that he couldn't, could compete with him in his own area of expertise made her struggle on where she might otherwise have given up.

She spent as much time as she could on the puzzle. Usually when she came home from dance class she jumped straight into the shower, but more and more she found herself sitting at her desk, slotting and unslotting pieces while the sweat dried on her. It became a mixture of hobby and catharsis, giving her something to distract herself with while her parents were arguing downstairs. The more they argued, the more her hands seemed to accomplish. Once or twice she looked down to see that she had completed whole sections of the puzzle without even realising it. Other times she could spend hours fighting with one piece that simply refused to fit.

"How's the puzzle coming?" Yuugi often asked, a hint of regret in his voice, even though he refused whenever she offered to give it back.

"It's coming," Anzu would reply.

When the bullies got to Yuugi she went home so frustrated that she felt like the puzzle pieces could melt from the heat of her fury. He thought of her as his best friend and that made her want to protect him, but she couldn't be there all the time. She had her own life to live. And besides, his already battered reputation was damaged further each time he was rescued by a girl. The boys taunted him and the girls laughed in his face. When they got into high school it escalated, until Yuugi just stood there while other kids punched him and stole his lunch money because it was so much better than what would happen if he fought back, or – worse – her conscience piped up and she stepped into save the day.

One morning she walked by the game store and he didn't come out to meet her. His grandfather said he'd already gone to school. Anzu was niggled he hadn't waited to walk with her, but he wasn't there when she arrived. He missed roll call, and first period, and recess. He missed art class, which he usually loved. His paintings of monsters and grotesque, under-the-bed type creatures were what the teacher called 'inspired', but which Anzu secretly thought disturbing.

It wasn't until lunch that she found him cowering under the bleachers in the gym, torn and bloodied and blinking too rapidly. His bag was missing, and with it all his expensive books and the collection of key chains he'd kept since fifth grade.

The school said there was nothing they could do about it. Everyone _knew_ which kids had done it, but they had no proof, and Yuugi wasn't saying anything. He was too afraid of the repercussions.

Anzu went home seething. She slammed at the puzzle, knocking bits together more by luck than skill. Her father had gone out for the evening, and her mother was at bingo. Peace reigned in the house, but she was too angry and overwrought to appreciate it. She was angry at the bullies, angry at the school, and angry at herself for allowing this to happen. The last piece of the puzzle slipped into place, but she didn't realise until her room was suddenly filled with coloured lights and what felt like a small cyclone.

Afterwards, she didn't know how to express the sensation of being sucked deep into her own body. She was still there, still in _residence_, but there was an abrupt sensation of newness, of _nearness_ that defied description. It was as though her mind, her sense of self was a reservoir made separate by a beaver dam, and then suddenly one of the twigs in the dam came loose and something else seeped in.

She nestled in the recesses of her brain, while this new occupant stood up – using _her _body – knocking the chair over backwards – _her_ chair – and looked down at her hands – _her _hands, with the little ink stain on the right thumb from her leaky fountain pen.

"Well," said a voice. Not hers, but it came from her throat. She knew this later, when she retained more consciousness of … everything, really. "Well," it said, "this is unexpected."

* * *

Anzu closed the door to the toilet cubicle, locked it, and then leaned heavily against it. "Okay. Okay, I _know _you like him, but could we please keep it to a low background hum? At least? The running commentary is getting really old, and it's _extremely _hard to concentrate with you whispering sweet nothings he can't even hear."

"_Sweet nothings?" _Yami's voice was a monotone, but she'd learned how to recognise suspicion – that special blend he reserved for when he thought she was trying to fool him about the details of modern life. Life as a teenage girl in the 21st Century was not something he identified with – on any level.

She spent a several seconds explaining, after which a slow outrage perforated the back of her brain. Yami didn't blow up with her the way he sometimes did at duellists he was battling – and boy, hadn't _that _been interesting, explaining to Yuugi how she suddenly got so good at a game she'd barely taken an interest in before. Instead, sitting atop her synapses, he simmered. Trapped in her head with nothing to vent on, Yami was a great big cauldron full of all kinds of crap – and the heat was always, _always _on.

"_I do not whisper 'sweet nothings'," _he told her firmly.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. But what you're not doing? Stop it. Okay? It's bad enough I have to take a backseat to you when any bozo with a Duel Deck points a finger, but hitting on my best friend is crossing a few lines I'd rather not have to deal with."

"_Why? Are you attracted to him?"_

"What? No!"

"_Then I fail to see the problem."_

"That _is _the problem. He's going to think I have some split personality disorder soon, making eyes at him one second and acting uninterested the next."

She thought about that for a second. It was dangerously close to the truth – though she didn't know how Yuugi would react to the idea that she had a ghost who could almost pass for his double sharing her headspace – a five-thousand-year-old one, too, if the dating of the Millennium Puzzle was anything to go by. He'd probably react better if she just made something up about schizophrenia. _She'd _probably react better if she could convince herself this was all just schizophrenia. Except that she was fairly certain schizophrenia sufferers couldn't mind-wipe people or seal their spirits into pots.

"It's not fair on him, if nothing else."

"_This modern custom of ingrained heterosexuality is foolish," _Yami declared, and she could _feel _him crossing his arms, even though she couldn't _see _it in the regular sense. It was the same way she knew how much he resembled Yuugi without ever seeing his face.

She'd gotten better at sensing him. He was never very far away, his spirit tethered to her by the Millennium Puzzle she wore tied to her belt. Luckily, the school was quite lax about jewellery, so long as you kept your grades up and didn't cheek the teachers. At first people had commented about it because it was so bulky and – let's face it – ugly. Yuugi had been amazed and delighted to see his Puzzle again – and it was Puzzle, not puzzle, she understood that now. Anzu had considered giving it back to him, but when she learned more about Yami and the fainting fits and this infatuation he'd developed with her best friend while she was sleeping, she kept it with her instead. She wouldn't feel right dumping something like that on Yuugi. It would feel too much like a betrayal.

This hadn't gone down well with the spirit. Yami was obstinate when he wanted to be, which was great when he needed a poker face to disconcert an opponent, but bloody irritating when they both had limited options on how to ignore each other.

"Yeah, well, cry me a river. Just don't do it anymore."

"_I cannot promise that."_

"Argh-chuh! Then can you at least promise to be more discreet? _Please_? I have a life to live outside of duels, you know. The life I was living quite happily until you came along with your whole magickal … thing."

Yami went quiet for a moment. He seemed to be considering this. Then he sighed. It felt like the taste of a shadow might._ "All right. I will try to be more … discreet." _He said the word like it was a dead rat he had to pick up by its cold, still tail and deposit in the dumpster behind Burger World.

"Thank you," Anzu said, and meant it. "Now, a little privacy, please?"

He faded into the recesses of her mind, not quite back in the Puzzle, but far enough away that she didn't feel so self-conscious about answering the call of nature. Yami may be pig-headed, but at least he wasn't a peeping tom.

When she opened the door of the cubicle there was another girl standing by the washbasins. She jolted when Anzu looked at her, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity.

_Hell_, Anzu thought. Undeterred – after a while, you learned how not to let how things bothered you show unintentionally in your face – she strode forward and washed her hands. When she yanked a paper towel from the dispenser and the girl still hadn't looked away, she gave up and glared at her. "Yeah, and what are you looking at?" It was a pointless and stupid thing to say. But then, it had been a pointless and stupid kind of day.

The girl flushed. "N-nothing."

"Good. Because if it had been _me _you were looking at - "

"It wasn't! I was just thinking things. To myself, thoughts. That I was thinking. Uh…" She ducked her head and scuttled out.

Anzu watched her go and leaned one hip against the enamel sinks. "I suppose I should be getting used to that kind of thing," she mumbled, tossing the balled up paper towel into the trash.

"_You are an odd one, Anzu Mazaki," _Yami whispered. He'd snuck up on her, and now hovered somewhere near the base of her skull. She resisted the urge to brush at her collar. He couldn't help being dead and creepy._ "You criticise me for breaking you from your normal patterns, and then remove yourself from them anyway."_

"Advantage of being a modern girl in a modern age. I'm legally allowed to be fickle."

"_Indeed."_

She finished up quickly and went back to class, whispering a short, "Hey," to Yuugi as she slid into her seat. He glanced over and half raised his hand in greeting, and then they were both caught and held by the teacher's steely gaze for the rest of the lesson.

Head bent over her books, Anzu reflected that Yami was indeed keeping the noise down. He was still there – still right _there _– but if he was staring at Yuugi or strategising or wondering who he was and where the hell he came from again, then he was keeping his own counsel.

She could have taken the Puzzle off, of course. She could have done that right at the beginning, before the blackouts started. Had she not convinced herself the first time was a hallucination, had she not wanted to please Yuugi by wearing the completed Puzzle like a prize, she could have avoided all of this. She could have locked the stupid thing in a drawer, stowed it in the attic, or taken it apart and scattered the pieces in the bay. She could have prevented this whole situation from ever arising when she _did _realise Yami wasn't just a product of her own mind.

Except that for all his blustering, all his complaining, and all his veiled menace, Yami was actually kind of pathetic. He was a bodiless spirit, which she assumed meant he was dead. When you died, you were meant to either move on or stop existing altogether. You weren't supposed to get trapped between worlds, robbed of your memories – your very identity – for no apparent reason.

The prospect made her want to shiver, and maybe she would've been more sympathetic, were he in someone else's head and not her own. Being pathetic didn't mean he wasn't still a Grade A jerk, and this _was _still her body. There was no rule anywhere that said just because she felt sorry for him meant she had to share herself with him. This was hers – her turf, her body, her _self. _All things considered, he should've been a lot more grateful than he was.

Than he _seemed _…

He'd saved her life a couple of times, she thought. She couldn't remember very well, but Yuugi had said how she once turned up at his house covered in cuts and bruises, not saying much but smelling of saltwater. That had to have been Yami. The next day there was a story on the news about how a known rapist was found facedown in the water by the docks. The authorities said there was alcohol in his bloodstream and he'd most likely fallen in and drowned. She told herself that was true, but even so she altered her route home from her new job at Burger World so that she didn't go near the docks anymore.

A ball of paper hit her on the head. She turned to see one of the boys from the back of class grinning and mouthing an apology. Clearly he hadn't meant to hit her. There were many similar balls of paper around Yuugi's desk. Old anger welled within her. She gripped her pen so tight she could have snapped it and glared at the boy.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a presence stir in similar anger

* * *

"I'm telling you, she's nuts."

Anzu froze with only one shoe on, the other dangling from her fingertips.

"She always seems so nice, though. A bit pushy, maybe, but nothing that bad."

"Yeah, Kanza. It's not like she's tried to kill anyone like in that school up north. Y'know, that kid with the handgun? You _know_; the guy who had all those poison-pen letters and stuff shoved in his locker."

"I heard it was a dead rat."

"Well _I _heard it was a cow's heart. And when he shot all those people he was shouting about breaking their hearts too."

"Ew. Why would he do a thing like that?"

"For dramatic irony, I guess."

"Not that. I mean shooting people."

"Hel-lo? Can we please focus?"

"Sorry Kanza."

"Yeah, sorry Kanza."

"Thank you. And before you start mouthing off again about how she always seemed so nice, remember that she sometimes hangs out with that weird Mutou boy. And you guys didn't _hear _her. She wasn't just talking, she was _arguing _with herself."

"For real?"

"Maybe … maybe she was just doing it to freak you out."

"Get real, Naoko. She didn't even know I was there."

"Maybe all that time around Mutou scrambled her mind."

"I wouldn't be surprised. He's mondo weird. You notice how none of the guys ever talk to him? It's like he's infected with cooties and they all still believe in them."

"They just don't want to ruin their macho images."

"Someone should teach Mutou how to be a real man. It's not normal staying home and playing games all the time. There's chic, there's geek, and then there's _freak_."

"He and Mazaki make a good couple, then. Hey, maybe one day they'll get married and have a whole brood of little freaky children."

"With bizarre hair and big butts!"

They couldn't know she was there. Everyone else had gone home already; she was just waiting for Yuugi so they could walk together. Her fingers were starting to cramp where she'd tightened her grip on her shoe. Comments like that were why she hadn't, by any means, been the best friend Yuugi liked to peg her as. She still left him alone with his games a lot. She let him continue building the reputation that drew bullies to him like wasps to an open jam jar.

"Hey, Anzu!" Yuugi's voice lanced the air like a needle in a boil. She jerked her head around, and the voice on the other side of the locker stack ceased. "You waited for me. Cool. Just let me get my sneakers. I won't be a jiff."

While he retreated to his locker at the far end of the room, Anzu slipped her own shoe on and clipped her bag shut. Yami's aura was easy to detect when he appeared in her mind. Though he didn't speak, she just didn't feel like talking to him right now.

"Leave me alone."

For a second he continued to say nothing. She thought he was maybe going to take control; march her body around to face those girls and crush their minds into pulp, or something equally dramatic and cartoony. While a part of her smarted enough not to mind, a larger part balked and roiled against his presence.

"_If that is what you wish," _Yami responded, and left again.

"Ready?" Yuugi looked in high spirits, and if he noticed the odd look traded between Anzu and the three girls on the other side of the lockers when they passed them, then he said nothing of it.

For her part, Anzu just walked a little closer to him than normal.

* * *

She felt like her eyes were trying to fall out of her head – like her _mind _was trying to fall out of her head. "Did you have to be so … full-on?"

"_They deserved it."_

"Oh, that sounds _so _much like a kindergarten kid."

"_Kindergarten?"_ Yami struggled with the new word. Strange that he'd picked up so much language and basic survival knowledge from being inside her head, but some things could still blindside him.

"Never mind. And you're sure neither of them will bother Yuugi again?"

"_Quite sure." _

"And this won't impact badly on him?"

"_There will be no negative ramifications. Trust me. I made sure of it."_

And, weirdly, she _did _trust him. About this, at least. "I suppose nobody would believe them if they tried to tell, anyway."

"_As was my intention. I was careful – unlike some people."_

"Hey, it wasn't my fault I got trapped in the Puzzle. Urgh. How do you _stand _it in there?"

"One learns to live with things after a while. It's better than oblivion" 

"Oh. Yeah." Well _that _killed the conversation stone dead. She searched for something to say, but all the important questions had been asked and there was really only one valuable thing left. "Thanks for putting it back together, when you could've … y'know…"

"_No, I don't know."_

"Stayed in control." Lived her life. Just plain _lived _again. And had a for-real chance at Yuugi, whose childhood crush on her could have worked so well to Yami's advantage - even if he did have breasts instead of a trouser snake. It hadn't escaped her notice that by putting the Puzzle back together after Katsuya Jounouchi and Hiroto Honda broke it, Yami was effectively giving up what might be his only chance at a proper life again.

Evidently, it hadn't escaped his notice, either, because he stayed quiet for a long moment. _"It isn't my life to live," _he said softly, almost sadly.

A warmth spread outwards from the pit of her belly, but it came from a core of uncomfortable ice. She flopped backwards onto her bed, the newly remade Puzzle in her hands. It felt warm to the touch. "So, tell me again how they screamed when the shadow tried to eat them."

* * *

"It's just so weird, y'know?"

"I don't think so. People like him are always bound for a bad ending."

"That's rather callous, isn't it?"

"… Maybe a little." The way Yuugi said it made Anzu squirm. Katsuya Jounouchi had made his life miserable, yet he was still sad when the guy was turned into the victim for once and trounced by his old gang. Had it not been for Hiroto Honda, he might have died. As it was he was still in the hospital being treated for bruised ribs and burns. The cast over Honda's wrist and knuckles had tipped them off about what happened when he came into school that day, linking him with an article in the newspaper Mrs. Mazaki had been reading when Anzu left for school.

Yuugi thought they ought to send a card and get-well gift to each. Anzu disagreed. As far as she was concerned, both bullies had got what was coming to them.

"_I agree," _Yami interrupted. _"Nothing less than they deserved. It's only regretful their lesson was only half learned."_

Anzu paused, processing the meaning behind these words.Hearing Yami's voice reminded her about their own roles in getting Yuugi's bullies off his back.Jounouchi and Hiroto were jerks, but they'd already been punished once ...

She dug in her pocket for whatever change she had. "Here. What do you reckon we can get for this?"

Yuugi counted it. "About half a postage stamp. But it's the thought that counts."

* * *

"Hey Mom." Anzu kicked off her shoes while Yuugi took his off, turned them around and placed them neatly next to her mother's slingbacks. Her father's shoes were noticeably absent, but it didn't look so odd anymore. "We're just going upstairs to study." And trade Duel Monsters cards.

For all her sudden expertise when Yami was at the wheel, Yuugi was one of the only people in school who could give her a run for her money – and the only person who didn't challenge her out of some need to prove he was better. He was still grateful to her – well, Yami, but Yuugi didn't know that – for duelling Seto Kaiba in his place while he went with his grandfather to hospital, and Anzu enjoyed the appreciation as much as she felt like a fraud for accepting it.

"Anzu, honey." Mrs. Mazaki appeared at the door to the kitchen. She had her coat on and was obviously ready to go out. "I was just writing you a note. This came for you today – by private courier."

"Really?" The package wasn't exceptionally heavy, but it was big and rectangular, like a box. "I didn't order anything online."

"Maybe you have a secret admirer. You can tell me about it when I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"Silly. I told you this morning about my evening class. Life painting, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember."

Mrs. Mazaki smiled. There were new lines bracketing her mouth and eyes, and wisps of grey in her hair, but her chin was still strong and her neck smooth. She kissed Anzu on the cheek, and then turned to Yuugi. "Maybe I'll be able to compete with your art skills when the course is over. Though I wouldn't hold my breath."

Yuugi blushed at the praise. Their art teacher had entered one of his charcoal drawings in a national competition, and he'd taken second place, beating out several hundred other school's entries and losing only to a specialised academy from Tokyo. His drawing had been a stylised piece called simply 'Magician'.

"There's no food in the house, so you kids can call out for pizza if you like. I left some money on the counter."

"Thanks, Mom." Anzu was pleased her mother was branching out again, but she wished she'd remember such mundane things as groceries. It was a nuisance, getting up early just so she could call in at the corner store for an apple and an extortionate pain au raisin. "What time will you be back?"

"Not too late, honey. You know, there's something wrong about this situation. I'm supposed to ask you that question, not the other way around. And I'm going to be late for my class if I don't get a move on. See you, honey. Yuugi." Mrs. Mazaki smiled at them both and left.

Anzu went into the kitchen to inspect just what they could order on what her mother had left them.

Yuugi followed. "So?"

"So what?"

"What's in the box? Aren't you going to open it?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about it already."

The contents were less than inspiring. Embedded in foam sat an unmarked black videotape and an enormously ugly fingerless glove. Anzu wrinkled her nose and looked for a return address to see who could have sent her such oddities.

Yuugi picked up the tape. "Cassette? Haven't people ever heard of DVDs?"

"Not everybody's as technologically savvy as us, Yuugi."

"True. Grandpa can't even set the VCR clock."

"Neither can you."

"A minor detail."

"I can't find any sign of who it's all from." Anzu picked up the glove. "Some misguided fashion boutique, maybe? It could be a free sample."

"We should play the tape," said Yuugi, taking it through to the living room. "That's probably what it's for, to explain things. The sooner we solve the mystery, the sooner we can get pizza and trade some cards." His smile was trusting and infectious. "I have some real stinkers I need to unload onto you."

"Hey!" Anzu marched after him, the glove still in her hands. "If you think you can take advantage of me just because you've been playing Duel Monsters longer than I have, then you've got another thing com-"

"_Something doesn't feel right."_

She ground to a halt at Yami's voice. She'd almost forgotten him. Almost. Her teeth gritted at the sudden invasion. "What?"

"_The air. It's not right. There's something … dark in it."_

No. He wasn't going to spoil her evening with doom and gloom. Yuugi looked happy for the first time in a long while, and since they stepped out of school it had felt like old times, innocent and free from bullies, spirits and narcissistic millionaires.

Selfishly, Anzu snapped, "Shut up. Just shut up. Gratitude only goes so far. This is my life. _My _life. You're not even meant to be in it. You aren't meant to be _here. _You're not alive. Go away."

Yami bristled. All the hairs along her arms prickled, and the back of her neck started to itch. She remembered the news report about the rapist.

"_If that's how you feel…"_

"It is," she replied in a voice that sounded much braver than she felt, but he'd already faded from her mind – back into the Puzzle, presumably. The nape of her neck felt cold.

"Anzu?" Yuugi's disembodied voice called. "Are you coming?"

Anzu sighed, shaking her head, and went through to where he was perched on the faded paisley couch. She tried to ignore the knot of uncertainty Yami's unwelcome words had created. "Hit the play button. Let's see what this is all about."

* * *

"Yami?"

He hadn't spoken to her since she insulted him. That was three days ago. She'd lost her job, skipped school, hopped on a boat and left her mother to fend for herself since then. Mrs. Mazaki had still been at the hospital when she left, comforting and taking care of Mr. Mutou in the inadequate scenery of the waiting room and proving she was more adept at coping then Anzu would have given her credit for. She hoped they would understand and accept the cockamamie story she'd left behind – especially since she didn't fully believe the real one herself.

Anzu hoped the other duellists thought she was just talking to some of the _other _duellists and not herself. She didn't need to be known as The Crazy One.

The crowd moved like a single entity, sometimes throwing bits of itself out the door and absorbing other bits when people came back. Trades were happening, practise duels were playing out; contestants were gauging each other as best they could while trying to give nothing away. The air was thick with anticipation and rivalry – and perhaps a little bit of seasickness.

"Yami?" Anzu tried again. "Please, Yami, answer me."

A faint sensation of sullenness and anger started up in the back of her brain. Yami didn't speak, but she could feel his presence. After days of no contact it was almost a relief. She'd been starting to think he was gone completely, the Millennium Puzzle reduced to nothing more than an ugly trinket.

Anzu huddled into her corner, her backpack between her knees. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Yami grunted.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't … I didn't mean the stuff I said. But I … damn it."

"_Not many people haven spoken to me the way you did gone unpunished."_

"I could say that not many people have shared my headspace and not had their Puzzles dismantled." He was dangerous. He was pathetic. He was the better duellist of the two of them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I need … I need your help. I can't do this alone."

There was a blonde woman walking about in a tight skirt who looked like she didn't need anyone. Anzu wished she could be more like that.

"_You admit you need my help. Therefore I will help you, as you once helped me by completing the Puzzle."_

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"_But know that I'm not only doing it for you."_

He blamed her. Of course he did. She blamed herself. Defeating Pegasus was the only way she'd ever rid herself of that blame. "That makes two of us."

* * *

"You can't!"

"I must."

"You can't kill him!" 

Stupid Seto fucking Kaiba. Let him jump. See if she cared.

But no. She couldn't stop Yami before – still didn't even know if there had been anything to stop him from doing, since she couldn't bring herself to ask if he'd murdered using her body – but this time … she was _here, _damn it! She had a say in how this went down!

Reasserting control before Yami was ready to let go left her with double vision and a blinding headache. Screaming at the top of her lungs that she forfeited didn't help, either. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to explode, or else fire out of her head like ping pong balls.

"Idiot!" she shrieked between gasps. "You big … fat … _asshole_!"

Kaiba was talking, saying something about insults and how they wouldn't change the outcome of the duel, but she was on her knees and shaking so badly she couldn't concentrate on much more than yelling and keeping her face off the floor.

"_I could have won," _Yami told her furiously. _"I **would** have won!"_

"This isn't a game!" she screamed back. "This isn't about life points! You can't _do _this! Not with me! I won't let you!"

Kaiba pulled her up so that she was sitting on her heels and plucked out her star chips. She could just about focus on his face – his self-satisfied smirk and long, arrogant nose. "You already did."

"_We could have entered the castle! We could be saving Yuugi now, but for your weak stomach."_

"I am not a murderer!"

"You think I really would have jumped?"

"_It wasn't murder. I didn't push him."_

"You would have done as good as."

"_And what of it? Seto Kaiba would be no great loss to the world."_

"That's not the point – oof!" Kaiba had dropped her arm and she had sprawled on the flagstones. She could see his expensive designer shoes walking away. "I don't care that you don't remember who you are, I don't care that you have a crush on my best friend, or that we both hate Kaiba – Idon't _care _what you might have done in the past. I'm not a killer, and you're not using _my _body to _murder_ people. Not anymore. You're not putting blood on my hands!"

"Delusional," Kaiba snorted.

"Anzu," said Ryou, scrambling over and pulling her onto his lap. "Anzu, it's all right."

She focussed on his face. Kind, lovely Ryou, who knew exactly what it was like to be governed by the will of a spirit from a Millennium Item. Ryou had thrown off his spirit's evil influence. And Yami was evil. He had to be. Yami meant _dark. _Big fat fucking clue right there. Only evil people murdered.

"Ryou," she whispered, as angry tears started running down her cheeks. "I've ruined it. My chance. I've ruined everything."

* * *

"_You have to let me help you," _Yami insisted. _"I can win this."_

"I don't trust you," Anzu replied.

Wham, bam, another hundred life points gone. Her chances of winning dimmed a little more.

"_This is ridiculous. Let me duel."_

"Go away."

One of her monsters was suddenly vaporised. Luckily it was in defence mode, which safeguarded her life points, but it was still a crushing blow.

"_You're being childish - "_

"Am I? I don't think so. The thing you don't seem to have grasped, Yami, is that this isn't the same world you used to know. Here, now, murdering people – whatever the reason – is wrong. And passively watching someone kill themselves out of pride is as bad as shoving them over the edge with your own hands. Except that in your case, you'd be using _my _hands. How am I supposed to respect myself if I know I let Seto Kaiba die? How am I supposed to look at _Yuugi _without seeing the look on Kaiba's face as he went over the battlement?"

"_You won't be seeing Yuugi ever again if you don't win this duel."_

"You think I don't know that?"

Her latest monster left the field in a ball of fire, as did a chunk of her life points. Anzu winced.

"So why are you continuing to let this happen? You're being humiliated out there! You are **throwing away **our only chance of **saving **him!" 

"I **know**!"

"_Then **why**?" _

"**Because I'm not evil like you!**"

"Hey!" The voice floated across the field, a twist of glee in it. "You going to just stand there talking to yourself, or are you going to make your move?"

"_I am not … evil," _Yami said, speaking far quieter than he had since she refused to let him take control.

"Then what would you call it? Just arrogance? Pride, maybe? Could you not stand to lose a duel, no matter what the cost?"

"I was saving - " 

"No, Yami, you weren't saving anyone. Kaiba may be disgusting, but you can't just exchange one life for another. It's not your right to make that kind of decision."

"Hey! Hel-lo-oh. Can I call time on this, or should I wait until I die of boredom?"

Yami pulled back. The pressure behind Anzu's eyes abated, as did the tight lines at their edges.

"_Evil?"_ he murmured. _"Is that what I've become?"_

Haven't you always been? she wanted to ask. Instead she drew a card from her deck and examined it. Magic card. Maybe useful, maybe not. Panic was beginning to set in, warring with stubbornness and making her forget all her meagre knowledge of complicated gaming strategy.

"_Am I becoming like … the Spirit of the Ring?" _Yami sounded … frightened? It wasn't something she'd ever heard from him before, so she didn't know for sure.

Anzu made her move and her last monster shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving her life points wide open except for one facedown card. "You're not like the Ring's spirit," she muttered bitterly, because it would have been so much easier if he were. "But I can't let you just do whatever you think is necessary to win without thinking about the consequences. I said it before – no blood on my hands. I'm going to save Yuugi, but I'm going to do it _my _way."

"Ooh, you made such a mistake there! Feeling a little off today, are we?"

"Dry up!" she called across the battlefield.

"Because I'm raining on your parade? Honestly, how did someone like you ever defeat Seto Kaiba? You're playing like a novice."

In her mind's eye, Anzu could _see_ the hand reached out to touch her shoulder. In reality there was nothing there, but the effect was the same. The line of her shoulders tensed and the hand stopped before it reached her.

"_I want to help," _Yami said, sotto voce.

On the boat, she'd asked for that help. She'd believed she couldn't do this without him. "That depends on the kind of help you're offering." They were some of the most difficult words she'd ever had to say, because she was nothing if not a realist.

"_I want to save Yuugi."_

"Me too."

"_Let me help you. You know I can win this duel."_

"Actually, I don't."

"_You doubt my skill?"_

"I …" She nibbled on her lower lip for a second. Her hairline was damp with perspiration. "I don't know if I can trust you not to go too far."

"_There's no wall here. No danger of that sort."_

"You know what I mean."

"_Then you will have to trust yourself to … keep me in check." _The words sounded like they were difficult to say. Yami was an arrogant bastard. She knew that.

"For just this duel?"

"_It's a start."_

"I … I don't …"

"_I'm not evil," _he said suddenly – defensively. _"Pegasus is evil. I am not."_

Anzu lowered the hand holding her cards and closed her eyes. She felt her atoms shift as she slid from her own body and murmured, "Then prove it."

* * *

"Yuugi, you aren't seriously telling me you're having only one scoop, are you? That's just criminal!"

"I'm fine, really - "

"Nonsense. Here, let me have that."

Yuugi pulled himself up in bed. His pyjamas were a little large, hanging over his wrists and hands so much he'd had to fold them back several times. Green percale was _so _not his colour. "Anzu, really, I'm okay with just one - "

Anzu waved him away, struggling with the ice-cream scoop she'd smuggled into his room in the volumous pocket of her coat. The tub of ice-cream was small and a little melted, despite all the ice she'd packed it with, but Yuugi's genuine smile at the sight of it made bringing it seem even more worthwhile. She scooped out a ball of Rocky Road and plopped it into his dish. "There now. That looks much better."

"Thanks." Yuugi accepted it gratefully. "I was getting sick of all the grapes."

Anzu looked at the cards on the sideboard. There weren't _that _many, but there were more than she might have expected for someone like Yuugi. He wasn't exactly brimming over with friends and acquaintances. One or two were from regular customers at his grandfather's store, who'd picked up on his 'illness' when Sugoroku closed early so he could make visiting hours. The biggest one was from their class at school. The teacher had forced everyone to sign it, and while most students had written a generic 'get well soon', a couple had put down more personal messages. The others were from Mrs. Mazaki – who'd signed Anzu's name for her – one from Yuugi's own absent mother, their art teacher, and Ryou.

Yuugi had been friendly when Ryou came to see him. Anzu hadn't expected it, thinking their acquaintance was over when they got back from Duellist Kingdom. Ryou had always been a quiet boy, prone to bouts of isolation and keeping secrets. He sat at the very back and hardly had any friends at school – though now she was forced to wonder how much of it was due to the spirit in his Millennium Item. Without it he seemed more open, and far, far happier in himself. He'd brought chocolates tied with a bright red ribbon.

Yuugi took to him immediately, as though sensing a kindred spirit in this softly spoken boy with the hair that kept falling in front of his face like a shield. Anzu found herself feeling left on the fringes as they talked and laughed. Hence: the ice-cream.

Yami was in the Puzzle again. He'd been doing that a lot since they got back. He was quiet when he was out, too, and though just as arrogant as ever, Anzu got the feeling his recent experiences had affected him quite a lot. Enough to warrant long attacks of extra-private thought, at least. She knew something had happened in their duel with Pegasus. Yami had won, obviously – and a great help she'd been, falling unconscious and leaving him without their mind-shuffle trump card – but he'd been less jubilant than she'd thought he would be.

Ah, well, he'd get over it, whatever it was.

"Anzu," Yuugi said suddenly, breaking her from her thoughts.

She looked up. "Yeah?"

He hadn't touched his ice-cream yet. His spoon balanced between his thumb and forefinger, rocking back and forth like a metronome.

The doctors hadn't been able to explain his sudden coma, nor his equally sudden recovery. They'd kept him in for observation, but it looked like the official theory was going to link it to the protracted illness he'd suffered as a child – the one that had already left him with his growth hormone deficiency. Back then, they'd said there might be complications that didn't show themselves until he reached maturity. It was easier to put this whole thing down to that than to guess at the truth.

Yuugi's eyes were unfathomable. "Nothing." He dipped his head and spooned Rocky Road into his mouth.

Anzu watched him closely for a second, before doing the same.

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

**Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs **

First off, the above title comes from a similarly named section of InterNutter's _X-Men: Evolution _fanfic _Don't Pity Me. _

Second off, the title of the fic isn't terribly original, I know, but it's a bit of a side-fling in itself. Once, long ago, in the dim and distant past, an author called Nemain asked for prompts to help stir her muses into writing some _X-Men: Evolution_ fanfics. I obliged, and the result was a fic called _Variations on a Theme_, a bittersweet femslash story. I love that fic dearly (and its sequel), but the draw of the title proved too much for me when trying to think of a title for this thing. So I hereby give kudos to Nemain for using it first.

_She'd lost her job, skipped school, hopped on a boat and left her mother to fend for herself since then._

-- I always thought that all the jetting about that goes on in YGO would play havoc with holding down a part-time job. Duellist Kingdom in particular sprang out of nowhere, and it makes a degree of sense that Anzu's boss at Burger World would take umbrage at her suddenly asking for time off when she hasn't been working there very long. Of course, this may just be me thinking about how _my _boss would react if I asked that kind of question, but it would sure explain why, in the anime canon, Anzu's never seen working at Burger World after they get back.

"_I could say that not many people have shared my headspace and not had their Puzzles dismantled."_

-- It's my personal opinion that Anzu would be a whole lot less accepting of sharing her body with a dead guy than Yuugi. Canon!Yuugi's initial embrace of Yami's presence stemmed from his intense unhappiness, loneliness and minimal self-esteem. He was willing to overlook all the odd goings-on that followed because, for him at least, justice was at least being meted out and his _extreme _run of bad luck was finally ending. Anzu may have sometimes been lonely in this fic's version of events, but her childhood was a relatively happy one and so she has less reason to suppress any suspicions of Yami the way Yuugi did in canon. This might also be how she noticed his presence before canon!Yuugi did – Yuugi believed the Millennium Puzzle had granted his dearest wish and brought him friends. Anzu made no such wish. Neither is she a completely selfless character, and this shows up in her treatment of Yami. She fights his being there while simultaneously exploiting his duelling abilities. In a way, she's torn over the whole situation. While not as self-sacrificing as Yuugi, she's not the raging bitch many fans peg her as, either. Yami is tragic enough to stir her sympathy, dangerous enough to make her feel threatened, but strong enough that she also feels a little protected in having him there. Therefore the average reader may be able to empathise with her reactions more than canon!Yuugi's. Maybe.

_The others were from Mrs. Mazaki – who'd signed Anzu's name for her …_

-- There's some irony that Anzu was so busy saving Yuugi's soul she didn't have time to sign his get-well-soon card.

… _it looked like the official theory was going to link it to the protracted illness he'd suffered as a child – the one that had already left him with his growth hormone deficiency._

-- There has to be _some _reason Yuugi is the size he is and looks as young as he does even when he's nearly old enough to vote.


	2. Breaking

* * *

**2.**

* * *

"How long do you give her?"

"Oh, about eight seconds."

"That long, huh?"

Ryou blinked. "Your grandfather is really that good, Yuugi?"

"He's the best." Yuugi folded his arms. "He taught me everything I know."

"And the two of them taught me," Anzu added. Well, it was mostly true.

Ryou whistled. "In that case … I feel sorry for her."

"I don't."

Yuugi looked mock-sternly at Anzu. "That's a very uncharitable thing to say."

"She's a brat. A _loud _brat. One I wish would just go back to preschool where she belongs."

"I heard that!" A vision in puffy-sleeves and extraordinarily dreadful pigtails marched up behind them. She was at least a foot shorter than Ryou and Anzu, putting her level with Yuugi. Side by side, the two looked about the same age, though Yuugi was considerably older. "And I'll have you know that I never went to preschool. _I _am a child genius. A prodigy. As in, smarter than you'll ever be, you bunch of crooks."

Anzu rolled her eyes. "Here we go again."

"Look, Rebecca," Yuugi started, trying to be diplomatic as usual. "We already tried explaining to you. My Grandpa didn't steal that Blue Eyes White Dragon card, he was given it - "

"Put it in an envelope and mail it to a time I might care. You're cute, but you're part of a thief's bloodline."

Anzu bristled, and even Ryou looked uncomfortable. Yuugi, however, remained calm. It was one of his more disturbing qualities, borne of a time when he had his face mashed daily and got suspicious if someone didn't try to jump him at lunch. "I'll thank you not to talk about my family like that. A prodigy you might be, Rebecca, but well mannered you are not. You call attention to your immaturity by talking like that."

Rebecca screwed up her face, then pointed her nose in the air and stalked off with her teddy bear clutched to her chest. The three friends watched her go.

"Any advance on eight seconds?" Ryou murmured.

"If Grandpa doesn't, then I'll do it in three," Yuugi replied.

* * *

The dude in the cloak just didn't _get _it. If he'd been running from someone with shorter legs, like Yuugi, then he might have gotten away. But Anzu was a dancer. She'd spent _years _developing the muscles in her legs.

She caught him up with ease and cut him off as he tried to run down another tiny alleyway. "I don't know what your game is, chumley, but give me back my Puzzle."

The phoney fortune-teller held it away and tried to look intimidating. It might have worked, too, had she not been so furious with him for trying to steal something so important to her. Adrenaline made her temporarily numb to the very healthy fear of large men in dark alleys.

He took a step forward.

She stood her ground. "Give. It. Back."

"You want it?" He had a gravely voice, like he smoked sixty a day and then went home to eat Thai green curry.

"Haven't you been listening?"

"Then come get it."

She hadn't seen the little door behind him. He was heading for the warehouse district. Damn. There were a million and one places he could lose her there.

She took off without a second thought.

* * *

"I can't believe you were so reckless. You could have been killed! Or worse!"

"Jeez, Yuugi, don't be so melodramatic. It's not like the place was on fire or anything." She winced as antiseptic touched a cut. "Ow!"

"Hold still." Yuugi dabbed at her various hurts. They were in his room above his grandfather's store, and Anzu impulsively wondered what the old man would think if he walked in right now. Her tights were laddered, the knees gone, and she had her shirt off and clutched to her front while Yuugi took care of the shallow slice running diagonally across her back.

He'd flushed when he spotted the blood and realised she'd have to virtually strip to the waist for him to properly nurse her, but eventually concern had won out. Anzu wasn't the type of girl to worry that she was wearing one of her oldest, most unattractive bras – having a big bust meant lacy, pretty things just didn't work. She had to wear things that could double as car-seat covers, with thick straps, underwires that jabbed her sides and four little metal clasps at the back. Yuugi may go all googly eyed when girls walked past in short skirts, but he was her best friend, she reasoned. He didn't care what type of bra she wore, just that she was hurt and needed help that didn't involve lying about how she'd been injured.

"You don't need stitches, at least."

"Thank goodness. I'd hate to have to explain that away."

"Speaking of explaining, you still haven't told me exactly _what _you were doing with that weirdo to get so hurt. And please, don't treat me like a simpleton. I want the real reason – the one you're not going to tell everyone else." His touch was light, like a feather ghosting across her skin, but still firm enough that she knew there was no point in arguing.

Anzu sighed. "His name was Keith. I met him before, at Duellist Kingdom. Big guy. Broad shoulders. Lots of designer stubble. Really goes for that whole bad boy image."

"Oh. Are you two…?"

"Are we what?"

"Y'know… involved?"

"Huh? Oh, yuk, no! _No! _Absolutely not. The guy's a thug with the brain capacity of an amnesiac goldfish. Give me some _credit, _Yuugi."

"Oh. No, I didn't mean - " For all his bravado, she felt the room temperature creep up a few degrees from Yuugi's blush. "Sorry!" he squeaked. "I just thought … I don't know what I thought. I didn't mean to offend!"

"That's all right. I forgive you."

"So what - "

"He stole the Millennium Puzzle. I had to get it back."

"You _fought _him for it?"

"Close. We duelled. Then he went all psycho; talking to himself and tried to smash it. We scrapped a bit, and some cardboard boxes and metal rods fell on us. Then he got scared and ran off."

Yuugi was quiet for a moment. "You could've been really hurt trying to get this thing back."

Anzu suddenly realised he'd stopped dabbing at her, and was instead holding the Puzzle, which she had left beside her on the bedspread when he ushered her to sit down. He turned it over. Light reflected off it, casting a gold glow on his skin, and she abruptly wondered what would have happened had he never given her the Puzzle to solve; had he put it away and never got it out again, or else finished it himself.

"Well, I kind of had to."

"Had to?"

"What kind of friend would I be if I let something that valuable get broken just because I was too scared to fight for it?"

"The safe kind?"

Her smirk was brittle. "When have our lives ever been safe, Moptop?"

He looked up at the old nickname. "Hm. You may have a point there."

* * *

Anzu raised her head from her arms when something plunked on her desk. There was a polythene bag full of ... something, and it was staring at her. "Huh?"

"I made sugar cookies," Ryou said shyly. He inclined his head slightly, and she saw Yuugi taking his seat with a similar bag dangling from his fingers. "I ... thought you might like some."

"They're really good," Yuugi enthused, although he said it around a mouthful of baked goods, so it came out more it "Bair wheawhee gooff!"

Anzu opened the bag. It was tied with a little plastic clasp, of the kind commonly used to keep bags of frozen vegetables from spraying all over the inside of your freezer. "That's really nice of you, Ryou." The cookies smelled heavenly, banishing any Monday Morning Blues threatening her mood.A warm glow suffused her, and she felt Yami stir a little in curiosity.

Ryou scuffed his feet. "Well, y'know ... I just thought you'd both ... y'know." Ryou was kind without thinking about it, but their praise made him flush a little. "They're nothing special."

"You kidding? These are great!"

"Yuugi, stop stuffing your face or you'll throw up before class even _starts_."

* * *

"I don't care what you say. I'm not giving up ballet just because you don't like it."

"_Stupid girl. We should be preparing for Kaiba's tournament instead of indulging in this … triviality." _

"La la la, I'm not listening, la la la - "

"_You haven't even examined your deck since your last match. Your card selection is getting stale."_

"Because I've been busy. Groceries don't get themselves, you know. And it's not like the paintbrush was going to leap from the pot onto the ceiling on its own."

"Why couldn't your mother - "

"Mom's got enough to worry about." Since her father left, Anzu had found herself taking more and more responsibility around the house. She picked up the bills from the mat and made sure they weren't shoved behind the toaster. She noticed what needed fixing and replacing. She couldn't regulate the money her mother's job brought in, but she could make sure the groceries included stuff like bread and milk and not just chocolate and comfort food. The duelling was attractive insofar as the cash prizes were useful. And she really didn't care how mercenary that sounded anymore. Honest.

"_And now this!" _Yami exclaimed as though he was a newspaper reporter announcing that yes, some celebrity had done something stupid again, and oh shouldn't we all laugh and disparage them.

"Hey, this is important."

"_How?"_

"You may not like to think about it, Mr. Big Shot Duellist," Anzu took a breath as she walked, pacing her breathing to her steps so she wouldn't arrive at the studio gasping, "but Duel Monsters wasn't that big a part of my life before you came along. I have other things that are _more _important to me than some silly card game – ballet being one of them. People haven't left me _alone _since you opened that can of butt-kicking on Pegasus," she allowed herself a small smile at the thought of the gaming mogul being taken down a peg, and then shook it away, "so I'm not missing this. This is my last class before I have to go on hiatus. I _need _to make sure I'm not so out of practise I've developed big flaws in my technique."

Yami frowned. It made the backs of her eyeballs twitch, and she swore she could see him walking along beside her with arms folded – translucent and ephemeral as the germ of an idea that disappeared if you looked too hard at it. It was a big step. She'd barely been able to see him before Duellist Kingdom. It was as though he was becoming more separate from her, more his own person. It sparked a gratifying, yet strangely saddening feeling she didn't much care to examine.

"_You haven't," _he said at last.

"Excuse me?"

"_I've watched you when you practise at school, in your bedroom, wherever. You haven't developed any glaring flaws."_

"Oh, and you know this because you're an expert on ballet as well as Duel Monsters now?"

"_I pay attention."_

And suddenly she could picture him leaning against the barre as she practised a _pas de chat_ with one of her class's only male students. She could see him perched on the piano like some 1920s singer as she doggedly twisted herself into _fouetté_ after _fouetté_, his eyes big and dark and impossible. Yami always seemed like he was analysing more of this new world than he was enjoying.

"Oh." It was all she could think to say. "But … but I'm still going." Her voice climbed a few octaves, becoming shrill and insistent.

"_As you wish. It isn't as though I can stop you."_

He could. He could take over by force, like he used to do when she got so angry she felt like she could burst – and then _did_.

But he wouldn't. The realisation hit her like a car on a road she'd been crossing but hadn't been paying proper attention to.

Anzu stopped in the middle of the street. Yami stopped a pace later. She _felt _the sense of movement that was out of synch with her own. It made her feel giddy, like when she was a kid and spun around and around on the spot and then tried to walk in a straight line. She felt him looking at her, quizzically, maybe a bit calculatingly.

She was possessed of the same idea she'd played with a few times, that he had once been someone important – someone who knew how to order people around, but also how to manipulate them.

He'd saved her life before. He'd saved Yuugi's life, too.

"I'll only be an hour," she stated. "That's the best I can promise. We can go to Mr. Mutou's shop afterwards to see about some new cards."

"_Thank you." _

* * *

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Huh?" Anzu spat out the tip of her pen and noticed a splodge of blue on it. Swivelling in her chair, she reached across to her dresser in search of a hand mirror. "What did you say?"

"_You keep staring at me instead of getting on with this 'home work' of yours. Considering it is so important to your modern educational standards, I should think you would pay more attention to it than you are."_

"Oh. Well, it's not like it's _important_ homework. Just a book report. I can churn one of these puppies out in half an hour."

Yami's scepticism uncoiled in her mind like a snake. _"If it is so easy, then why do you keep neglecting it to stare at me? Why not simply finish it so you can do something and go somewhere more interesting?"_

"Should've known you have a personal stake in wanting me to be a good student."

_"Hm."_

"I'm not staring at you."

"_But you were."_

"I was?"

"_Indeed."_

"Oh." The mirror revealed ink on her lips and front teeth. Anzu rubbed at them with the tip of one finger, but it didn't seem to do any good – expect turn her finger the same colour. "Hell. Not again." She yanked a tissue out of a box she kept for occasions just like this and scrubbed furiously at her mouth. "I wash jusht - hang on. I was just thinking about how much clearer you are now."

_"Clearer?" _

"Uh, visible. Able to be seen. You used to be just this voice in my head - this total figment of my imagination, but now you're not. I think."

He arched an eyebrow. He really did look a lot like Yuugi – though an older, harsher Yuugi. She'd always known he would, which was creepy by itself. How could you know what a person looked like before you ever saw them? You got an idea of what you _thought _they looked like – whether from hearing their voice, like with radio DJs, or from what they said, like with email-pals and people on Internet message boards – but those impressions were rarely correct. They were definitely never as accurate as her mental image of Yami had been.

"_I'm quite sure that, if you'd imagined me into existence, I would have known about it."_

"I think I should be afraid that's something I'll have to tell my shrink someday."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Anzu!"

"Yuugi? What are you doing, calling me at this hour? I only just beat my mom to the phone, and she's not happy about getting out of bed while she's all flu-y."

"Uh, Anzu? I have a sort of ... problem."

"Uh-oh. What kind of problem?"

"Hang on ..."

"Yuugi, who's there with you? Why can I hear voices I _know _don't live at your house?"

"Anzu?"

"Ryou? What are you - where'd Yuugi go?"

"He's just seeing to Mokuba."

"Mokuba? As in Mokuba _Kaiba_? He's there, too? What, did you guys organise a party and not invite me?"

"I don't think this is any party you'd like to be involed in. But Mokuba's been asking for you, and he didn't know where you lived, so he came here, only he's kind hurt from squeezing out of the air vent and he just keeps talking about his brother and you and needing your help because you're the one who helped so much before-"

"Whoa, Ryou, slow down. Deep breaths. Now, start from the beginning. What's going on?"

"It seems Seto Kaiba is having trouble with a new video game his company's been developing. He used himself as a test subject, only something went wrong. Now Mokuba thinks some business associates are trying to kill him. Anzu? Are you still there?"

"I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet. I'm charging you to stop me from kicking Seto Kaiba in the nuts when I see him."

* * *

After Burger World, Anzu had got a part-time waitressing job at a café by the freeway on the very edge of Domino. She worked some evenings and Saturdays, no fixed hours but with great pay for someone her age. During her shifts she served fry-ups to randy HGV drivers who filled the greasy air with cigarette smoke and sexual innuendo. Hiding her embarrassment, she'd laugh at their dirty jokes and concentrate on counting her tips.

Long distance lorry drivers were generous tippers and she was glad of the money. It meant that she could still put some aside for her Manhattan plans while giving some to her mother for housekeeping each month. With such a crowded schedule (because of course teachers wouldn't give less homework just because she was participating in another of Seto Kaiba's famous quirks), her ballet was down to once a week by the time Battle City came around – yet another reason she wasn't willing to sacrifice it on Yami's whim.

She'd learned from her hasty exit at Burger World. Before Kaiba's tournament started, she asked her boss for time off. She was a good worker, never late, never rude, and never left until all the clean-up chores were done. He let her go, even though she couldn't say when she'd be back. The standard of competition was going to be intense. She could be knocked out in the first round for all she knew.

"_I doubt it," _Yami said.

"Of course you doubt it. You're so self-confident you're _smug_."

"_Self-confidence isn't a negative thing. It breeds self-worth."_

"My point exactly."

"_Yuugi has more self-worth since he gained more self-confidence. Are you saying this is a bad thing?"_

"No …"

"_Then what are you saying?"_

"I'm just trying to get at you."

"Why?"

"Because."

"_You can be very irritating."_

"I'm so glad you noticed. I've been working on it."

She was walking from one stop to another for her changeover bus. Thanks to her mother's new status as a single-parent in a low income household, Anzu had qualified for a free bus pass this year, which made working across town much easier – not to mention cheaper. The short walk involved passing the museum, which she didn't really pay that much attention to when Yuugi or his grandfather weren't around.

Yuugi had inherited a little his grandfather's love of ancient history, reading up on bits of it to go into his artwork. He'd really blossomed since that charcoal second prize, much to the delight of their teacher, and with no bullies to bother him anymore he could walk around with his portfolio-folder and no fear of losing all his work.

She was only entering Battle City because he was. Her guilty protective streak again. How predictable. Of course, the publicity couldn't hurt – much. She got a couple of local newspaper and gaming magazine interviews after Duellist Kingdom, and she'd learned that those who chased were those who paid for the privilege of an 'exclusive'. After her impromptu defeat of the young tycoon Otogi ­­Ryuuji – a national favourite with both readers and journalists because he was rich, pretty, and didn't try to punch photographers when they got too close – the glossies got involved. The attention was fleeting, but the money had lasted, and she'd only had a couple of offers for nudes. Anzu had binned those straight away, and invested in a Venetian Blind for the bathroom window.

The pulling sensation started somewhere around her kidneys and tugged insistently. She stopped, pressing her fingers into her abdomen, and then realised Yami was no longer by her side. She whirled to see him staring up at the museum, an odd look on his face.

"Yami?"

"Ishtar, actually," said a husky alto. There was a woman at the top of the steps leading into the foyer. She wore a long robe and beads in her hair, and looked totally alien to her surroundings. Her smile was formal but pleasant. "Isis Ishtar." Her head didn't move, but her eyes shifted to the spot where Yami was standing – and stayed there as though she could see him.

Anzu's throat tightened for no rational reason than she could think of. She swallowed. "Uh, I'm Anzu. Anzu Mazaki," she said, walking in front of Yami. Shielding him? Maybe. Something about this woman unnerved her. Her eyes were a little too knowing, a little too … familiar. Not familiar the way Yuugi's eyes were familiar, or Mrs. Mazaki's, or even Grandpa Mutou's, but familiar like she knew more than she should about things that didn't concern her.

Anzu felt Yami's surprise radiate behind her.

The woman's gaze came back to Anzu and she started down the steps. Her smile didn't change, but a wrinkle started up between her eyebrows. "You are … not quite what I expected, Miss Mazaki."

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, but the little one is still a part of the tapestry. I see." She nodded.

"Good, because I don't."

"Would you like some tea? I have things to show you both. Some answers to questions you have."

Both. Shit. There were no other people around.

Yami's hand on her shoulder was like a cobweb clinging to her jacket. _"I think we should."_

Anzu frowned, asking 'why?' with her body language.

"_This woman has a Millennium Item. Look, around her neck."_

Once you'd come across a couple of Millennium Items, it was impossible not to recognise their unusual aura. Something about them made them stand out from regular things – some sense that what you saw what not necessarily what you got. Anzu told herself she would have noticed the ugly necklace eventually. She _would've_.

Her frown deepened, but she was curious despite herself. Sighing, she acquiesced. "All right."

* * *

Anzu stared at the ceiling of her cabin and wished there were some cracks to count. It would have helped distract her mind, which had become a soup of bile and apprehension after the events of the day. Tomorrow the official blimp matches would begin, and as she'd predicted there was some stiff competition – as well as a few familiar faces.

She sat up and scrubbed at her eyes.

"Can't you sleep?"

"Huh?"

Yami was sitting on a chair near the door, arms and legs crossed. His outfit mirrored what she'd been wearing that day – faded jeans, loose white shirt and scores of thick bangles on either arm. Unlike hers, however, his shirt was not knotted at the chest to make it shorter. Whatever she wore, when he appeared as a spirit he applied a dose of masculinity to her choices. Sometimes he thought she'd like to wear something really tasteless and vulgar, maybe something short and spandex and totally out of character for her, just to see what he'd do.

Anzu looked at her hands. Her self-done manicure was all shot to hell, nail polish chipped away and covered over with a fresh coat that formed horrible lumps and bumps. "No. Too keyed up, I guess." She circled her knees with her arms. "I never expected Otogi to tag along after what happened. He's supposed to hate Duel Monsters."

"_It is said that hatred is simply love with its back turned."_

"Maybe. But I think he just wants a piece of Malik for kidnapping him and tying him to that chair. You know the Rare Hunters who did it wrecked his car, right?"

"_I do. I was there when he told us."_

"Oh, yeah. Well, he really loved that car."

"_I know that, too. It was a 1956 Belvedere GTX, bought at auction, the restoration of which he used as a form of catharsis when the pressures of modern commerce threatened to overwhelm him."_

Anzu blinked. "I didn't hear him say _that_."

"_You have to listen to what people **don't **say to understand them."_

"Uh … sure." She fiddled some more with the flaky polish on her index finger. "Listen, aren't you, y'know, nervous?"

"_Not really."_

Of course not. What had she been thinking? "Well I am. That Malik guy gives me the creeps."

Yami left it a few seconds before answering, slowly; "_A keeper of a Millennium Item should be honourable. I think. Not like the keepers we've met so far." _

"I don't know. Ryou's honest, Isis Ishtar gave us all that useful info, and that Shadi guy didn't seem too bad. I mean, apart from the whole 'no respect for personal boundaries' thing. But comparably, he wasn't as evil as Pegasus or Malik."

"_True." _He shook his head and let a breath out through his teeth. _"But the Spirit of the Millennium Ring wasn't honourable at all. And I sensed no spirits in the items held by Pegasus or Malik. Why not? What significance is it that the Items are starting to reappear now, at this time, in these places?"_ He made a frustrated noise and scowled. _"I'm tired of not understanding these things."_

"What things?" Yami was usually so cagey. Having him open up a bit might be enlightening. If she couldn't get to sleep, then at least she'd have something to think about aside from her own fretfulness.

"_This world. This … strangeness. It's too different from what it ought to be."_

"You're starting to remember your past?" Isis Ishtar's words came flooding back; as well as the look of frustration on Yami's face when he tried to put her words to something personal and couldn't.

"_No."_

"Oh. Not even a little bit?"

"_It isn't remembering. I simply think that the world has changed a lot since I was last in it, based on my reactions to things when I first encounter them."_

"How very scientific of you."

Yami snorted. _"People have been using magick for millennia. And yet, in this era, the world has become too condescending to believe in such a thing. Magick? Reduced to trickery and deception; sleights of hand and nothing more. That world … makes me uncomfortable. I prefer the world you fell into when you solved the Puzzle."_

"Yeah, the one that keeps trying to kill me."

"_That is unfortunate, but unavoidable. Magick carries an intrinsic degree of danger with it. But the world of magick … it suits my frame of reference. And the other world – your **normal **world – isn't exactly safe, either. Humans don't need magick to be capable of great evils." _

"Are you done with your soapbox now? I need to make a race car from it."

Yami blinked. _"What are you … ah. A cultural reference." _She felt him slip the file marked 'childhood pastimes' back into its place in her mental filing cabinet. Somehow it wasn't as invasive as she'd worried it might be when she first asked how he'd picked up the language and details of her life so fast. Yami respected the boundaries in her head, staying away from those things she kept under lock and key. She imagined a big padlocked box that she could shove all her personal crap into, with Yami on the outside and nothing but a bedfellow of dead air on the inside.

Silence fell. Yami closed his eyes, but there was no way he was asleep if she could still see him. Anzu watched him for a second, and then, when no further conversation seemed forthcoming, flopped back against her pillow.

The digital clock read 3:13 a.m.

She wished the ceiling had some cracks she could count.

* * *

"You'd think that with a blimp this size, there'd be at least one kitchen."

Kaiba was an irritating bastard. Not only did his behaviour rankle her while awake, its pure exasperation factor was now keeping her up at night, too. If her traitorous brain replayed his 'I'm-the-best-and-that-means-better-than-you-Mazaki' speech one more time, she was going to find his room and set fire to his mattress, just so she had something to replace the sound with. No doubt he would make some involuntary surprised noise, swish his pyjamas (what was the betting he wore a long swirly bed-jacket over the top?), and then launch into a declaration of how he could have set it ablaze in half the time, and with twice the effectiveness.

She'd tried tiring herself out with sit-ups and stretches, part of the exercise regime she went through every night to keep herself toned for dancing. It hadn't worked. Neither had counting sheep. They all turned into little Kaibas jumping over a fence.

Milk. Warm milk. It sounded hackneyed as an old pony; something her grandmother would suggest, but maybe it would help her get some _sleep. _

Of course, that all depended on her finding the kitchen. There _was_ one – well stocked, too, though mostly with Kaiba Corp. products. Yuugi and Otogi had been scoffing KC-brand ice-cream in it at lunch; long before the whole debacle with Malik – the _real _Malik – and the man they now knew was called Rishid. The trick was finding it in amongst the maze of anterooms, cubbyholes, store cupboards and dead-end corridors.

What had Kaiba been _planning _when he designed this blimp? Package holiday deals?

Remembering Malik's duplicity threw up a whole new set of things Anzu really didn't want to think about. Not on her own. What happened to Rishid was part of Yami's world, and contact with that strain of magick and darkness ran across her skin like a thousand baby spiders. She shivered, feeling incompatible and out of her depth.

"I don't suppose you remember where it is?" she asked Yami, who had retired to the Puzzle. Kitchen. Milk. Mundane things she could deal with.

Obviously there was no answer. Yami was asleep, or doing whatever equivalent of it applied to spirits. She couldn't sense his presence, but hearing her own voice bounce off the walls at least lent the illusion she wasn't alone.

"Didn't think so. Honestly. And they say _women _are bad at directions."

She smirked at the irony: For so long people had thought she was just talking to herself when she was talking to Yami. And now, here she was _actually_ talking to herself with no spirit to blame it on. She didn't know which sounded worse.

"Man, this place is creepy. I wish I could find the dumb kitchen – or at least something to take my mind off things."

A figure appeared in her peripheral vision. Anzu turned to look, trying not to feel too pleased at the prospect of someone to talk to. It was late, and all sensible people were safely abed. Thankfully, it wasn't Malik, or Kaiba out for a midnight brood.

"Hey, Ryou!"

Ryou was still dressed in what he'd been wearing that day, when he unexpectedly withdrew from their duel and ran off. He had his back to her, stark halogen striplights picking out the darker contrasts of his hair. When he turned, he did so slowly, and there was something stiff and jerky about his movements.

Anzu hesitated a few feet away from him. "Ryou?"

For a second his eyes were just as soft and liquid as always – doe-like, her mother had once called them. Eyes that could be superimposed on a baby as it stared up at the midwife and asked innocently, "Why are you slapping me?" He might even have looked a little frightened when he spotted her – pupils dilated despite the bright light.

Then his eyes changed. It was subtle – not like a frown or a smile, but something _in _the eyes themselves was suddenly different; suddenly unshackled. Ryou gave a predatory grin, like a dieter unwrapping an illicit doughnut, or a police officer observing a student driving a car with a defective brake light. It was not the sort of grin he ever gave.

Anzu recognised that sharp grin. It was hard to forget – although she'd been three inches high when she saw it last. "Oh my god," she whispered, backing up a step.

Ryou-who-was-not-Ryou grinned even wider. "No playmate?" he buzzed. "Too bad, so sad. And me with no time to waste."

She didn't really remember him rushing her – although he must have, because she hurtled into the wall hard enough to leave a bruise on her shoulder. There was a sense of movement from him, but no pressure to indicate he'd struck her. Then again, she wasn't really in any position to notice stuff like that. The side of her head ricocheted off the metal with a loud clang, causing a torrent of dark spots to flood her vision. She slid to the floor.

"An … zu …" said a strangled-sounding voice, as though someone had the speaker in a chokehold.

"Ryou," she murmured as the world faded to black.

Very black.

An indeterminate amount of time later, someone shouted very loudly down her ear.

No, wait. _In _her ear.

"Stupid girl. Anzu! Wake up!"

"Yami?" The world had reduced itself to blotches of colour arranged like the work of an impressionist artist. They swirled every time she blinked, gradually reforming themselves into more familiar objects: wall, light fitting, irate spirit of dead Pharaoh.

"_Get up," _Yami commanded. _"Quickly."_

"Ryou," she mumbled. Her right arm didn't want to move. It felt all tingly and warm, and the backs of her eyes throbbed. She wondered if she had a concussion. "Ryou…"

"_I know. I felt when you lost consciousness. He was just leaving as I emerged. Didn't he notice you lying here?"_

"No, y'dun' unnerstan'." Damn it. Why was her tongue three times its normal size? "S'not him … just his body …"

"What?" "Ring. Gotta be the Ring. Not gone after all …"

"_Hell." _Yami glanced up. _"Let me take control. It's been a little over fifteen minutes, but maybe we can catch him – it."_

Still fuggy, she let go without a fight. It was like unclenching a very tight fist, and she abruptly realised one of the reasons why Yami hadn't just taken control while she was out of it. He'd been really trying not to just overwhelm her mind whenever he wanted, and since he hadn't known that this was one occasion when she really wouldn't have minded him taking the reins, he'd just waited for her to wake up of her own accord.

"Where they gonna go?" she muttered. "We're on a freakin' _blimp."_

They found Malik laughing out on the duelling field. Residue of Ryou's scattered essence coated the area like blood at a crime scene.

Anzu got the point. It was hammered home. Fate really didn't have to be so cruel in proving the 'be careful what you wish for' thing anymore.

* * *

She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't cry – damn it, she was crying.

"I never … I never approved of Yuugi entering this dumb tournament. I told him to stay home, but he wouldn't listen. He should've listened to me. He should've. Something like this was bound to happen … in the end."

The wall was cold and hard against her fist. Yami's fist. Which one of them had punched it? She didn't know. All she could think about was Yuugi, so small and frail looking with that oxygen mask over his face. He didn't look any older than Mokuba like that.

First Ryou. Then Mai and Otogi. And now … _"Yuugi."_

Anzu liked Mai. The older woman had guided her through Duellist Kingdom, to some extent. Privately, Anzu was convinced that, had it not been for Mai and Ryou, she wouldn't have made it so far. And Yami, of course, but Yami was different. He'd duelled because he couldn't resist a challenge – and there was that small detail of recovering Yuugi's soul from Pegasus. Ryou had helped out of gratitude for Yami severing the spirit of the Millennium Ring's control over him – or so they'd thought. Mai had helped because she just plain wanted to. It meant a lot.

Now Mai was gone – or as good as. The emptiness where Ryou should have been was still raw. He never deserved anything that happened to him. Both of them had been ripped away so suddenly and violently, Otogi was possessed by Malik's better half, and now Yuugi was gone, too…

"_There's nobody left," _Anzu whispered. No sensation of her lips moving. Yami must be in control again. It felt a bit weird, floating about next to a body that was like a photocopy of her own – exact in the broad strokes but altered slightly in the fine details. Her eyes were darker, red flecks making them almost purple, her jaw more angular, and her hair was like a bristling animal clasped around her skull. _"He's taken them all…"_

"We will save him," Yami said suddenly and stiffly. Yep, definitely him in control. Her voice never sounded that deep when she was using her vocal chords. "We will save them all."

"_You sound so sure." _Anzu wiped at tears that didn't, actually, exist._ "Do you even know what Malik did to them?"_

"Malik…" The fist tightened. He was going to cut their palm if he kept digging those nails in. "Defeating him is the key. Damn it!" The fist dropped, useless. "It should have been me who duelled him first, not Yuugi."

They stood there for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Anzu couldn't get the image of Yuugi's crumpled body from her mind. She blamed herself. Yami, as ever, kept his thoughts his own.

"_It's not your fault," _she said at last.

"What?"

"_I've known Yuugi a lot longer than you have. He's small, but he's brave. You never had a chance at discouraging him once he'd set his mind on rescuing Mai and Ryou."_ She breathed a sigh borne of starshine and frustration. _"He was trying to make sure Malik's darkness didn't get to me, too. He told me … he told me he didn't want to lose any more friends. Stupid Moptop."_

Yami stayed silent for a long moment. When he did speak, he kept his – their – voice low so that only she could hear, even though the corridor outside the med bay was deserted. "He's important to both of us, isn't he." It wasn't a question.

"_Not that he realises it, half the time. Stupid Moptop. Stupid martyr. Stupid little hero."_

"He's not stupid -"

"_Yes he is! He knew the risks. He saw what happened to Mai … to that Rishid guy … he knew that if he lost he was going to get hurt …" _She felt lost and too young and so, so frightened that it beggared belief. Where was the girl who stood up to bullies bigger than she was? That girl who could laugh off the butt-pinches from truck drivers without breaking her step or dropping her tray – where was she? What had happened to the responsible person who made sure her mother got to bed instead of sleeping slumped across bills on the kitchen table?

That girl was in the corner, weeping, and Anzu had to put on a different face now because everyone was counting on her, but it was so _hard _without Yuugi and the others nearby _… _

"… _Going leave me all alone…"_

"You're not alone," Yami said sharply. And then softer, he added, "I'm here."

When all this started, Anzu never would have believed anyone who told her that would make her feel better.

* * *

Yami looked just like an incredibly well built teenager. Except for his hands and eyes – his hands looked older, calloused from a thousand things he couldn't remember doing, and his eyes … his eyes were the most difficult part of him. They were eyes that had seen a lot and showed very little. Most of what came out of them was anger, or some variation of it. Sometimes, when they were with Yuugi, his eyes would soften a little bit – not much, but just enough that someone who'd been around him a lot could see he was in what would, for anyone else, be a vulnerable moment.

He was wearing a mixture of looks when Anzu sat Yuugi down and told him everything. That soft look was in there, but so were a whole bunch of other things she couldn't put names to.

Why hadn't she told Yuugi before? She didn't really know. Maybe she'd thought he wouldn't believe her. Maybe she'd thought herself going mad. She didn't think she really needed to protect him from Yami's … attentions anymore, but maybe that had been a factor, too. He'd been hurt before because of this. She didn't want the responsibility of it happening again, but, as Yami had pointed out, Yuugi had a _right _to know the full story instead of just the bits and pieces he'd picked up as they went along.

It was a lot easier than she'd thought it would be. Her approach was purely ballistic; she just pointed her voice at the end of the story and went for it. Afterwards, Yuugi sat back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head so that his elbows obscured a lot of his face.

Cold fear gripped Anzu. What must he think of her? So many lies, so many half-truths, so many times she could have told him and hadn't. So many times he'd paid the price because of her responsibilities. Yuugi was honest to a fault. She couldn't claim the same thing.

She bit her lip. She didn't have many friends, after all, and she'd been through a lot to save him. Malik's manacles, the feel of her legs, arm and lower ribcage being scrubbed out were still very fresh in her mind. "Yuugi?"

"Shh. Processing." Without taking his elbows away, he asked, "Is he here?"

"Who? Yami? Yeah, he's here."

"Where?"

"Sitting on the edge of the table. His knee is about five inches to your left."

Yuugi twitched, but didn't try to move away. "He's a lot closer to me than to you."

"Yeah. He's not … he's not really tethered to me – to the Puzzle. Not like he used to be. He's his own person." She'd left out the part about Yami's infatuation with him. It was a lot to take in as it was, without dealing with that sort of emotional implication. She'd only told what she knew about Ryou, as well, reasoning that his story wasn't hers to tell. Ryou was still very private about some things, and it didn't feel right to peel back those layers when he wasn't even there to give consent.

Yuugi's left eye came into view. "Could he be … could he be in control? For a second?"

Anzu startled, then bowed her head and nodded. The sensation of giving up control to another spirit was like sliding into a bathtub full of champagne – faintly fizzy against her skin until she was no longer wearing it. She watched as Yami took that all-important first breath and looked up to meet Yuugi's gaze.

Yuugi held it for a long moment. Then he nodded. "I thought so. There was always something … different about you when you duelled. And I always thought it was weird how you went off to Duellist Kingdom when I was so sick – it just wasn't like you. I didn't cotton on until Malik pulled that stunt in your last duel and put you two together, side by side." He blinked and lowered his arms. "So you're … really a guy in there?"

Yami twitched her – their – mouth into a fierce little smile. "It's taken a lot of getting used to."

"Wow. And you're really an Egyptian Pharaoh?"

"So I'm told."

"Cool. You should talk to my Grandpa. He knows all about ancient Egypt." He said it like he was inviting them around for video games and cookies. Just like that. No screaming, no refutations that magick wasn't real, no demands as to why she hadn't told him before, no cries of it wasn't fair, the whole experience should have been _his _because it was _his _Puzzle Yami had come out of.

Anzu had been called a hero before – mostly when Yami was wearing her skin, but still, she was always the one people addressed. And it was funny, but she never felt much like a hero until she was with someone she _knew _was a better person than her.

Yuugi made her feel like a hero.

* * *

"How do you feel?"

"I feel …" Ryou's right hand snaked up to his own bare chest. There were old blemishes there, tiny triangles of white scar tissue in a circle. "… lighter."

The cord of the Millennium Ring dangled from the tip of Anzu's finger. It was indeed very heavy – possibly even heavier than the Puzzle, or the Tauk that Isis had given her. She wanted rid of it as soon as possible, but she knew that she would have to hold onto it and stash it somewhere safe so that it never infected anyone with its evil ever again. She shivered at the touch of the cord against her skin, even though Yami had promised her touching it would be harmless after he'd exorcised the Spirit from Ryou for a second time.

He was back in the Puzzle now, exhausted into silence. Something at the back of Anzu's brain was worried about Yami's well-being after all the fighting and exorcising and magickal mojo, but it was overshadowed by concern for poor Ryou.

Ryou also shivered, trying to cover his scars with one hand while reaching for his shirt with the other. He fumbled with the buttons, eyes rooted on the floor. He was trembling.

Anzu reached for his hand. "It's..." Not _okay, _but… what was a good word for this situation? "It's … going to be ... you're going to be … okay. " Damn it. Stupid girl.

He met her eyes then. He looked scared, disillusioned that the Spirit hadn't gone from him the last time Yami banished it, but there was a tiny spark there that gave Anzu pause. She realised she hadn't seen that spark in a long time. It was distilled essence of Ryou, and it was back where it belonged.

"I hope so," he whispered.

* * *

"Anzu?"

"Mokuba." Anzu looked up in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I … just wanted to make sure everything was okay. With you." He stood in the doorway and scuffed his feet. His clothes and hair fitted in there, ordinary and a little unkempt, but his face looked out of place. From the way he was standing, anyone would've thought he was creeping into the backroom of the dodgy rental store instead of sinking into the cosy atmosphere of the Kame Game shop.

"That's sweet of you, but how did you know I'd be here?"

"I kind of followed you home from school."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "I'm caught between being flattered and a little creeped out."

His smile was wan and a little wry – far more so than a kid his age should've been able to make it. "I was on my way home and I saw you and Yuugi walking, and I just thought …"

"You just thought you'd check in on us. That's very thoughtful of you." She looked through the door separating the storefront from the house in which Yuugi and his grandfather made their home. "Yuugi's around too, if you want to talk to him. I think he went to make some tea. I'm just minding things out here. For a second there I was panicking that you were a customer. I have _no _idea how to use this new cash register." She made a noise like a baby blowing a raspberry. "I take it your brother's okay?" You couldn't have Mokuba without Seto coming along for the ride, even if he wasn't physically there in a room. They were a pair – inextricably linked after all their shared past had put them through. Where one went, the brittle memory of the other followed.

Anzu didn't know al the details – she doubted anyone but the two brothers ever would – but she knew enough that despite the wealth and power they now wielded, Seto and Mokuba Kaiba's childhood had not been an especially happy one. As a result, their bond was stronger than that usually found between siblings. All they could really rely on was each other – or so they'd told themselves for a long, long time. Seto still did, but Mokuba's attempts at friendship with her little group suggested otherwise. Anzu briefly wondered what his elder brother thought of that.

"Oh, you know. Seto's … Seto." He sounded embarrassed.

"_I **do **know. That's what worries me." _Yami folded his arms and disregarded Mokuba's personal space just because he could, circling the younger boy like a predator examining its next victim. His stance on the whole matter was clear. As far as Yami was concerned, Mokuba was a considerate, good-natured kid. He didn't deserve a borderline-psycho like Seto Kaiba for a brother. Who knew what kind of poison he'd filled the poor boy's head with?

_He did risk everything to save Mokuba in Noa's world_, Anzu wanted to point out, but couldn't. _That has to count for something. Of course, it doesn't make him any less of a jerk, but maybe he's one of those jerks who balances nastiness with a soft centre –_

The silliness of the notion rode on its back. It wore spurs and said: Yeah, right. Seto Kaiba was a well-balanced individual only insofar as he had a chip on _both _shoulders.

Yami hated that Seto Kaiba featured in both there now and the then – that he'd had such an overt influence on events since Yami was released from the Puzzle, and that somehow, of all souls in all the world, _Seto Kaiba's _was the one featured on the stone tablet at the museum. Seto Kaiba, the boy-man who took the greatest delight in shoving business rivals headfirst down the executive ladder, who held expensive gaming tournaments just to massage his own ego and staunchly refused to call anybody 'friend' even after they gone out of their way to save his miserable life a few times, was as inextricably linked to Yami's ancient past as an Egyptian Pharaoh as he'd been to his recent past as a champion duellist. It left a sour taste, like rancid tea, settling in the back of her throat.

A tall shadow appeared behind Mokuba. It didn't even have to speak to change his expression from self-conscious hope to self-conscious disappointment.

"Master Mokuba," rumbled the black-suited security guard, "you have a schedule to keep."

"I know, I know," Mokuba muttered. "I've … I've got to go, Anzu. But it was nice to see y-… that you're okay."

Anzu shot him a reassuring smile and came around to the front of the counter to wrap him in a hug. Yami's disapproval wrapped around her brain just as tightly.

Mokuba froze at the contact, but after a moment he relaxed – though he didn't return it beyond a perfunctory pat on the back. Anzu got the feeling he hadn't had many unprovoked hugs in his life. She scrubbed a hand through his hair as he turned to leave. Her fingers got caught in a few snags, but his hair was soft and plentiful. It felt like petting a dog with a thick coat.

"Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"I won't," he replied, one half of his mouth tugging upwards in a way that was profoundly sad. Then he left. As the door closed, she heard him talking to the security guard. "He asked where I was, didn't he?"

"That's not for me to say, sir."

* * *

"It's … nice."

Yuugi stuck out his lower lip. "You hate it."

"No, no." Anzu raised her hands, palms forward. "It's just … it's very dark, isn't it?"

"_I like it."_

She twitched.

Yuugi looked between her and the painting. "You're _flinching _at it? Is it really that bad?"

"No, Yami was just putting in his yen's worth. He likes it."

"Oh. Well then, he has better taste than you."

Yami smiled and tried to pretend he wasn't by going over to the window seat and staring out into the darkened yard.

"He has _different _tastes than mine." She briefly raised her hands again and turned her wrists. The studded bracelets glinted in the soft lightning, and the one around her ankle _twinkled, _as she knew the studs on the dog collar around her throat must have also been doing. "I never used to wear this sort of thing before he came along."

"It beats all that sugary pink stuff you used to wear."

"Pink can be gothic, you know. It doesn't have to be sugary."

"Okay then. I challenge you to make an outfit from pink and still look as good as you do now."

Anzu blinked at him. "That's a very twisted way to compliment someone."

Yuugi grinned nervously and blustered about with his painting again, cheeks only a little red. "So come on, I need more feedback than 'very dark'…"

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

****

**Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs **

"_Put it in an envelope and mail it to a time I might care."_

-- Riffs off a line from the_ Simpsons_ episode _Itchy and Scratchy Get Cancelled _(or a title to that effect)

… _having a big bust meant lacy, pretty things just didn't work. She had to wear things that could double as car-seat covers, with thick straps, underwires that jabbed her sides and four little metal clasps at the back._

-- Trust me on this. Women with big busts get the narrow wedge of the cheese when it comes to attractive underwear. What gives you support isn't pretty, and when you find something pretty in your size it leaves your boobs sagging practically to your knees. And the prices! It's a safe bet Anzu's bank account takes a hefty thwack whenever she needs a new bra.

_Yuugi may go all googly eyed when girls walked past in short skirts, but he was her best friend, she reasoned. He didn't care what type of bra she wore, just that she was hurt and needed help that didn't involve lying about how she'd been injured._

-- Six of one, half a dozen of the other, methinks.

_"When have our lives ever been safe, Moptop?"_

-- Those who've read _A Ship Sailing Over the Edge of the World _may recognise this nickname.

_She picked up the bills from the mat and made sure they weren't shoved behind the toaster._

-- Derived from something that happened in _The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 ¾ _by Sue Townsend.

"_Yuugi has more self-worth since he gained more self-confidence."_

-- Because Yuugi isn't acting as Yami's host, he has more time to devote to the development of his own identity in this universe, independent of acting solely in the interests of others. Canon!Yuugi is a sweetheart, but he does tend to define himself by other people – especially Yami, who he even goes so far as to call 'the other me'. The Yuugi of this timeline is developing at a different tangent, and while other people are still a major influence in his life, he never made that all important wish for friends on the Puzzle, and so never had anything or anyone to hold accountable for the upturn of his luck (such as it is) other than himself.

"_I'm so glad you noticed. I've been working on it."_

-- Line taken wholesale from Ruber in _The Magic Sword: Quest for Camelot_. I used to love that film so. It was one of my mainstays while my mother was in hospital back in 2000.

_His outfit mirrored what she'd been wearing that day…_

-- Who else thinks Anzu would dress in something frilly and flowery (something really _difficult _to make seem masculine) just to piss him off when he's been getting on her nerves? It's amazing how the dynamic between people changes when they didn't start off with one crushing on the disembodied voice of the other.

"_It is said that hatred is simply love with its back turned."_

-- From _Maskerade _by Terry Pratchett. And yes, it is meant to be spelled that way.

_It was a 1956 Belvedere GTX…_

-- ObNit: this is the same car driven by Angel of _Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer _fame. It often makes cameos in my fanfic.

_Of course, that all depended on her finding the kitchen. There was one – well stocked, too, though mostly with Kaiba Corp. products._

-- Side-fling to the YGO fic _Whatever Turns You On,_ by LeDiz.

…_a predatory grin, like a dieter unwrapping an illicit doughnut…_

-- Taken from _Nothing But Blue Skies_, by Tom Holt.

"_An … zu …" said a strangled-sounding voice, as though someone had the speaker in a chokehold._

-- In case it isn't clear, in this world Ryou is more aware of the Spirit of the Ring being inside him at this point. That's why he backed out of Anzu's duel, but the effort it took to do that weakened him, leaving him practically defenceless against the spirit, so it took control and went to duel Malik. Ryou has had his Millennium Item a lot longer than Anzu, but rather than this extra time allowing him to build up his defences and learn how to keep the spirit from taking over, as Anzu did with Yami, Ryou simply spent longer being possessed and not knowing about it. This strengthened the spirit's grip over him; therefore, the spirit really does have Ryou in a 'chokehold' whenever he wants to be in control. As Faith said in Buffy, 'Want. Take. Have'. Even if Ryou fights, as he is doing here, the spirit is practised and preternaturally stronger than him and so can eventually overpower him, much like Yami used to when Anzu (and Yuugi in canon) suffered those early 'blackouts'.


	3. Making

* * *

**3.**

* * *

It was Otogi who brought the news. As if having a known celebrity CEO knock on their door wasn't enough for Mrs. Mazaki, she then had to bear the strange event of her only daughter appearing around the door of the kitchen and greeting him with the words, "Fucking hell, another pretty-boy mouth to feed."

"Anzu! Language!"

"Sorry, Mom."

"Honestly. You never used to talk like that."

"Did I come at a bad time?" Otogi enquired. He was polite to a fault, wearing a long coat and with hands by his sides, what looked like a newspaper tucked under one arm. He might have been Joe Average out for an evening stroll, were it not for the pale blue Cadillac parked by the kerb, and the way he sort of looked down on people, even when he wasn't. You had to prove yourself to Otogi, and he never forgot it.

"No, no, just in time. For dinner, that is. Ryou's making his famous chilli-that-goes-up-to-eleven."

Mrs. Mazaki pulled herself together and said courteously, "Would you like to stay? I'm sure there's room for one more." She wasn't shell-shocked, though she was maybe a little star-struck. Anzu moved in such elevated circles these days, and she _had _seen the television broadcast of her playing (and beating) Otogi at what was quite literally his own game. He seemed a nice enough boy, though, and she was attached to her rose-coloured glasses enough that she'd convinced herself his arrogance and rudeness had just been a trick played by mean-spirited editors and reporters.

Anzu looked at her mother and sighed. "Just accept the offer, bozo. It's easier than arguing."

"In that case, I'd love to stay for dinner." Otogi gave a brilliant smile and followed her in.

"I'll just … stay out of your way." Mrs. Mazaki waggled her eyebrows and went back into the living room where she'd left a DVD on pause.

Anzu goggled for a second. Could her mother think that …? Hm. Now _there_ was a fallacy that needed wiping out when she got the chance. It had taken a while to convince her mother she didn't harbour any romantic attachment to Ryou when he first started coming over. Yuugi was like the son she'd never had, which made it easier for her to believe there was nothing between them. Now she had to start all over again with Otogi. Mrs. Mazaki seemed intent on setting her daughter up in a nice, stable relationship – even if it was all in her own head.

Ryou was stirring pots at the stove while Yuugi sliced ciabatta into a basket. They propped up the kind of easy good spirits that bespoke how often they stayed over for dinner these days. Both looked around when the kitchen door opened.

"Otogi!" Yuugi cried, obviously pleased to see him. Yuugi's good nature was too stubborn to stay sore at people for long, and if Otogi had once dressed him and Ryou in monkey suits on live television, then he had more than made up for it with his help against Malik and Noa Kaiba.

Ryou was a little more reticent. But then, he usually was – even more so than usual these days. "Hello, Otogi," he said softly.

"Hey, guys. Something smells _good._"

"Otogi's staying for dinner," Anzu informed them, shutting the door with her foot.

Ryou looked critically at the bubbling pots. "I guess we can squeeze in one more. Provided he doesn't eat much."

"You think I keep this figure by stuffing my face all the time?" Otogi pulled out the paper from under his arm – which turned out not to be a newspaper at all, but rather a sheaf of computer printouts. "Anyway, enjoyable as it is to discuss the details of my health regime, getting a free meal isn't why I came over. I actually came over to laugh, and it took so much willpower not to burst my seams before I got here, that if I have to wait another moment I may have to hurt you three and giggle at your well-matched remains."

"You get more disturbing every time I talk to you," Anzu said dryly, pulling out a chair at the table and plonking herself into it. She leaned it back on two legs, arms folded. "So what's so funny you felt the need to share it with us? Don't you have people you pay for this sort of thing?"

"Yes, but it wouldn't have the same effect." He shuffled through the printouts for a second, and then held one up triumphantly. "ZNN's top entertainment story tonight? The deepening relationship of billionaire CEO Seto Kaiba and gaming genius Anzu Mazaki."

"WHAT?"

Yuugi held his hands over his ears. "Crank up the volume a little, Anzu. I don't think they heard you in Australia."

Anzu picked herself – but not her chair – off the floor. "Give me that." She grabbed for the printout, noting Otogi's smug grin with some irritation. "What is this? Where the hell did someone get _that _idea from?"

"I don't know. But it's not just ZNN. They started it, and now most of the news channels are running the story in their celeb slots; they all think you and Kaiba are an item."

The story carried a grainy photo of herself and Kaiba climbing into a helicopter, and the headline _'Opposites Were Bound to Attract'._ The photo had to have come from Battle City, and had obviously been taken by some passer-by. It wasn't even a very _good _photo. The wind from the rotors was kicking her hair up, making her look like the Bride of Frankenstein in stripy tights and a chain belt.

"Anzu?"

"What?"

Yuugi didn't say anything else. She looked up.

"What?"

He looked uncomfortable.

"_Are _you and Kaiba seeing each other?" Ryou asked for him.

"No! What would ever make you think that?"

"You do have a lot of … chemistry when you're together," Yuugi attempted to explain.

"So do nitrogen and glycerine. That doesn't mean they're a good match." She looked at Otogi, who was snickering behind his hand. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

"Enormously."

"I'd never really thought about it before…" Ryou looked pensive. "I suppose you would make an attractive couple."

"Ryou!"

"What? I'm just _saying_. You're both kind of pretty-looking, and you both dress funny - "

"I do not dress funny!"

"-And you both play a mean game of Duel Monsters. Relationships have been built on less."

Anzu scanned the rest of the printed sheets. Most were full of random speculation, a couple were devoted to listing all the times she and Kaiba had been spotted in each other's company, and one article wondered whether they'd actually started seeing each other when they went to the same school.

'Did a teenage tryst in the broom closet lead the way to one of the defining relationships of this year?' it asked. 'There has to be some significance that soon after Kaiba and Mazaki duelled in their first unofficial match, with Mazaki emerging the victor, Kaiba withdrew from public education completely. Was he running away? Subsequent meetings have been based around the popular card game Duel Monsters – a game championed by Kaiba Corporation – with one always trying to better the other. Is Kaiba trying to prove himself worthy of his ladylove's skill after that first defeat? Or maybe Mazaki is chasing her knight in shining armour, unable to immerse herself in the feminine mystique and so immersing herself in his preferred world of competitive gaming instead. Or is this all just some elaborate publicity stunt? The world may never know – but we can sure enjoy the ride!'

"Who writes this tripe; fourteen year old girls high from pixie stix and inhaling fumes from vanilla lip balm?"

"Sounds like the voice of experience," Otogi chuckled.

"This one here thinks I'm just after his money! Yeah, sure, that's why I work my butt off decanting coffee and making doorstop sandwiches for truckers after school." There had been some prize money after Battle City, but she'd given it to her mother to pay off the mortgage. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever forced herself to do, because although the money wasn't anywhere close to what Pegasus had offered had she chosen that prize instead of Yuugi's soul, it was still enough to make a down-payment on a minuscule place in New York. Dumb conscience and its conscience-y ways.

"Anzu, calm down," Yuugi soothed.

"They're slurring my good name!"

"Some might see it as good publicity - "

"I don't want publicity if it means I have to have some imaginary affair with a guy I'd much rather send face-first down a dry ski-slope." She grunted angrily and leaned on the table.

"It's not so bad," Ryou offered.

"No. They could be talking about our secret wedding instead. 'Unable to immerse herself in the feminine mystique'? What's that supposed to mean?"

Ryou and Yuugi exchanged a look.

"What? _What?_"

"Well, you have to admit, you aren't very … girly."

"I used to be. I was when I first met you."

"Yes, but Anzu, your wardrobe has altered since you first met me. If I recall, there were no chains or metal spikes involved before."

She glanced down at her makeshift belt. She'd taken no chances after Keith cut the last one with barely a flick of his knife. "It makes the Millennium Puzzle more secure." After all they'd been through together, nobody here was a stranger to the story of Yami and the Puzzle – not even Otogi. Though Anzu still felt it would be too surreal to explain things to her mother, she'd learned from the situiation with Yuugi.

"Yes, but sweetie, it's not the kind of thing you see on the Paris catwalk, is it?" Otogi arched an eyebrow. Where Yuugi or Ryou might try to spare her feelings, he had no compunction. Being able to not mince your words was something that came with owning your own successful company. "It's more like something from a fetish store."

"I don't wear so many skirts now because of Yami. It was just too weird seeing him in a mini…" Anzu ran a hand through her hair. "Crud, these articles make me sound like such a … _guy_."

"Apparently Seto Kaiba likes that quality in a partner."

"Seto Kaiba? Seto _Kaiba_? I've had e-freakin'-nough of Seto Kaiba. This all started with him and his stupid obsession with the Blue Eyes White Dragon card. I never would have shown up on Pegasus's radar if he hadn't pulled that stunt with Yuugi's grandfather. If I have to spend _any _more time around Seto Kaiba, I'm going to smack him so hard it'll send ripples back in time and prevent his furthest ancestors from planting baby seeds!"

"If you're going to get into the kinky stuff, can I set up a webcam? We'd make a fortune marketing something like that."

Yuugi and Ryou had to physically hold her back. Otogi just laughed and beat his fist against the table.

* * *

Yami was smirking when he appeared in her bedroom later, his back to the full-length mirror. Like a vampire, he cast no reflection, but the analogy was one she preferred to keep away from.

"What?"

"_You've had a lively evening."_

"I notice you didn't put in an appearance."

"_Events didn't require my presence. I was happy just to observe." _

"You're never happy unless you're duelling the crap out of someone." Anzu sulked, sitting cross-legged on her bed and glaring at him.

He could _feel_ her anger at being linked to Seto Kaiba. He must do. Her veins sizzled with it, and it had been all she could do to sit through dinner while her mother made small-talk with Otogi and the guys and not burst out "I am **not** having an affair with Seto Kaiba!" First thing in the morning, she vowed, she was calling ZNN and telling them exactly what they could do with their theories about her love life.

In the meantime… "I don't know what you're smirking about. They say me, but they mean you."

Yami's expression faltered – just a little. _"Excuse me?"_

"Think about it. All the reports talk about the chemistry between Kaiba and me when we duel. And since _I've _never really been in control when that happens, what they're _actually _doing is saying that _you _and Kaiba would make a cute couple."

"_But … but that's preposterous! The man is a loud-mouthed, closed-minded boor with a spirituality that wouldn't even fill an eggcup! As if I would ever –"_

She smiled. It was a sharp-edged smile – one she would never have been able to summon before she completed the Puzzle. "Exactly. Welcome to my world."

* * *

"And I would like to repeat that there is _no _romantic connection between myself and Anzu Mazaki. Anything anybody hears to the contrary is a story fabricated by media and the fertile imaginations of the general public."

The press conference erupted into shouted questions and waving microphones. There was nothing the media liked more than a good love story – except maybe a love story sprinkled with denial so they could fill in the blanks themselves.

Anzu and Yami stared at the television screen. Yami knew what a television was, although after the incident with Pegasus's video trap he was more than a little wary and stood well back while it was on. Anzu, by comparison, leaned forward so far she nearly fell off the couch.

"I think I should feel pleased," she said eventually. "Except that if I do, it means there's something I actually agree with Kaiba on."

"_And that," _Yami concurred, _"is a most disturbing notion."_

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous. Are they still out there?"

Yuugi twitched the curtains. "Oh yeah."

Anzu groaned. "Why are they stalking _me_? Why can't they camp outside Kaiba Corp.?"

"Because Kaiba's security would tear each of them a new - "

"Thank you, Yuugi!"

Ryou emerged from the kitchen with a bag of nachos, some dip, a bottle of soda and three glasses. He looked tired around the eyes, like he hadn't been sleeping much, but his smile was bright and open. It dimmed a little when he saw their expressions. "No sign of them going away yet?"

"Nada." Anzu shook her head. "They've barely moved since we got home from school."

"Yeah. About that." Yuugi turned a little to inspect the tear in his blazer. "Do you reckon I could get The Daily Trumpet to reimburse me for this?"

"Unlikely. I have a sewing kit somewhere if you'd like to fix it yourself."

He sighed and took it off, folding it neatly and slinging it over the sofa arm. "I'll pass. I get enough of that in Home Ec."

The curtains were all drawn to prevent the horde of reporters from seeing inside. However, the equipment some of them had brought along was screwing with the TV signal, leaving them with over a hundred channels of black and white snow.

"We could do that homework Mr. Fuji gave us for Chemistry," said Ryou, sitting down and pouring drinks on the coffee table. Her mother's voice clanging around her brain like church bells summoning mourners, Anzu flung a few coasters at him, which he slipped under each glass.

"But that's not due until Monday!" Yuugi protested.

"_You could always duel each other," _suggested Yami.

"I think we've all had enough of that for a while." Anzu shivered.

Yuugi looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "Yami suggested a duel?" he guessed.

"How'd you know?"

"Your expression. And the fact you're talking to a lampshade."

"Oh. Right." She thought for a moment. "How about jacks? Jacks are better than homework, right?"

Ryou raised his eyes from his glass. "Little spiky things? With the rubber ball and the bouncing and the grabbing? You still have those?"

"Somewhere. In the attic. Maybe." She ran a hand through her hair. "Monopoly?"

"If we do, I claim the dog as my counter," Yuugi interjected.

"I think the dog went up the vacuum a while ago. Sorry, Yuugi."

"That's okay. I'll just be the hat."

"Wedged between the floorboards."

"The car?"

"Pot plant that died and went in the trash with a cursed can of baked beans. Long story."

Ryou popped open the bag of nachos. "Like we're going anywhere?"

* * *

"Yeah, Mom? Hi. No, no, we're fine, but I think it might be better if you stayed on at Grandma's for a while, just until this whole thing blows over." Anzu twisted the phone cord around her fingers, oblivious to the fact her mother had told her a zillion times that it ruined the wiring. "Really, Mom, we're fineWhat? Just me, Yuugi and Ryou. They came over after school yesterday and we haven't been able to leave the house since. Yeah, it's that bad. They can't come within a certain distance of the house unless I give explicit permission, but they're totally blocking the way between the front door and everything else. Uh huh. Five vans. Well, it'd be cool if the delivery boy with the groceries I ordered online could get up the path. They scared him off. I guess he doesn't get danger money. No, no, we've got some tinned stuff to last us. Besides, it can't go on _too _long, right? Yeah. Uh-huh. What? Siege is a pretty strong word, Mom."

Yuugi came up with some burnt toast on a plate – burnt toast that represented the last of the only slightly stale loaf in the bread bin. He looked apologetic and kind of pitiable, with his hair all mussed and his tracksuit so obviously borrowed from her wardrobe, since Sugoroku Mutou couldn't make airdrops and all either he or Ryou had were their school uniforms.

"No, don't worry about it," Anzu gabbled into the receiver. "Think of it as a chance for some real mother-daughter bonding. Gotta go now. Give Grandma my love. Mwah, bye." She clapped it back into its cradle. "You didn't."

"I'm sorry?"

* * *

Anzu diced carrots with less than military precision. Twice she'd nearly cut her finger off trying to emulate the way TV chefs whirred away with their knives, and eventually she'd been reduced to slow, gentle cuts that posed no threat to her person.

Yuugi beavered away mixing ingredients into a bowl a little way down the counter. The flour from the back of the cupboard had been infested with weevils, but somehow he was making do without it. Ryou had been banished when he started falling asleep standing up, and now snoozed with his chin on his chest in front of the silent television.

"How's that … whatever-it-is coming?" Anzu asked, scraping carrot into a bubbling saucepan.

"Great. Do you have a can opener anywhere?"

"Third drawer down. To your left."

"Ah. Thanks." Yuugi opened a tin of conserved apple pieces in a syrupy mush and emptied them into another bowl. Then he dusted a rolling pin with icing sugar and began flattening and cutting out thin strips of pastry.

"What exactly are you making?" The meal was just being put together on the fly, since nobody had been shopping before the siege began. You couldn't tell carrots had gone a little soft once they'd been boiled, and anyone could make good noodles if they had dried packets and a self-steamer. Sure, she'd broken three egg yokes attempting to mix them into the softening noodles, but for the most part things had gone okay.

"Strudel," Yuugi replied without missing a beat. "It's something Grandpa picked up years ago when he was at a archaeology conference in Germany. He showed me how to make it when I was little." He added raisins and the last of a bag of brown sugar to the apple pieces. "I think he meant it as some kind of male bonding since his bad back meant we couldn't play catch."

"Most kids just make cornflake cakes, you know."

"And where's the fun in that?" He shot her a mischievous grin. "No challenge. I used to make bets with myself over how many laps around the house I could do before it was done baking. Or I'd sit in front of the oven and play solitaire on the kitchen floor."

"You're not going to do that now, are you?"

"No. I was thinking more of poker."

"There'd better not be any ideas of strip poker in your head."

"Me?" He pressed a hand to his chest and pretended to swoon. "You wound me with your words."

Anzu slammed the dishwasher door after placing the chopping board inside. Ryou was snoring gently, but stirred at the noise, so she shut the kitchen door and opened the steamer to see how things were going. "I don't see you playing so many games anymore. Not since you really got into your artwork."

"And since I got friends," Yuugi replied, again without missing a beat.

Anzu jolted out of reflex. She knew Yuugi's obsession with games and puzzles had been a result of his lonely childhood, as though by figuring out patterns and strategies in that context he could figure out a pattern to his life and a strategy to combat it. He was still a great gamer, but it hadn't been until she showed more interest in their friendship and he stepped away from gaming a little that he started to look happier – less anxious in the set of his shoulders.

"You don't have to look at me that way. I know I was an even bigger weirdo than I am now. _Now_ I'm just a comparative weirdo."

"Huh? Be kind. Rewind."

"Think about it." Carefully, Yuugi spooned apple filling onto the pastry strips, leaving an inch-wide gap on either side. "I didn't go out much, just sat in my room all day playing games against myself. And I live above a game shop. _So _not a good thing when you're borderline obsessive. When I ran out of pre-made games I made up my own. The only real variety I got was when I went downstairs to play them on the kitchen table. I even turned _putting my socks on _into a game. But now, since all this weird stuff came into our lives, I've turned down the weirdness control and upped the normalcy. If that makes any sense with all the incredible stuff we've been through."

He didn't mention her absences, when she'd had an attack of self-consciousness and broken contact with him until her 'fuck it' reflex kicked in and she stopped caring what people thought long enough to be his friend again.

Anzu stopped what she was doing. "I wasn't a very good friend before, was I?"

"Don't be dumb. Of course you were."

"No, I wasn't. I'm - "

"Please don't say you're sorry."

"What?"

"You know, drawing is a lot like solving puzzles." Yuugi stared at the spoon in his hand, bits of gloopy apple sludge dripping down the neck and onto his fingers. "You put it together piece by piece, and with the really good stuff you're never quite sure what you're going to end up with until it's done."

"I … never thought of it that way." Anzu shifted her weight from one leg to the other. The Puzzle bumped heavily against her hip.

"It could be something absolutely beautiful, or it could be something as hideous as … well, as hideous as your lawn after those reporters leave. Or Mr. Fuji's toupee. And sometimes, if you don't have a pre-existing picture to work from, or something to copy, things don't fit together very easily. You have to leave it a while, give yourself some space to think, and then come back later, when the different bits magically work where they didn't before. When I'm drawing, I go through _so _many drafts before I get something I'm satisfied with. I never used to. I used to just scratch out whatever came into my head first and be content with it. But now I think, hey, I could do better than this. Why settle for mediocre, or good, when I can get something great if I wait a while and work at it? So I try again, and I give it a different perspective this time – come at it from a different angle. And after a while, it all comes together. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I think so."

Yuugi put the spoon into the empty bowl. It jingled, metal on ceramic. He proceeded to place more strips of pastry over the first lot, press down the edges, then take a knife and cut slits at regular intervals so the strudels wouldn't explode while they were baking. "Pass me that tray I greased, would you?"

Anzu did so. He put the three strudels on it, slipped them into the oven and set the timer to ding him when they were done.

"That should do it."

"I never pictured you as the happy little housewife type."

"Oh? And what did you picture me as?"

Yuugi was good at that; asking innocent questions that raised countless unpleasant things in her mind without meaning to.

What had she pictured him as? Well, that depended on her mood at the time. She'd sometimes thought he'd be a geeky little gamer forever, always hiding behind other people and taking the punches of those bigger than himself. She'd seen him as a father, maybe, if he met the right girl. Yuugi would probably make a good father. He cared enough. Or maybe he would be an eternal bachelor, a Kind Uncle sort who was good with kids without even trying. She thought he might take over his grandfather's store someday, or take up art as a serious career – or even design his own games, just like he used to, except he would get paid for it this time.

And then, in her darker moments she'd imagined him never getting to the stage where he had to stop being the quiet and humble gamer who failed all his exams on the first try. On days when he'd been beaten up she'd imagined him with a nasogastric tube up his nose for the rest of his life. She'd all but smelled the flowers that would be littered around his wake, and heard the crack in his voice as he turned into one of those kids who just couldn't take being a victim anymore and did something stupid. She'd imagined the bullies getting too rough, going too far. And she'd imagined him becoming like his mother – driven and focussed to the point where he lost his sense of humour because he thought he was doing too much good to stop for laughter. Completely irrational things, but still, she had thought them.

She moistened her lips. "To be honest, Yuugi, I just pictured you as you."

* * *

"Ryou? You up here? Dinner's ready." Anzu pushed open the door to her bedroom. "Ryou?"

He was bent over a book, a half-chewed pen in his mouth. He looked up as she came in, hand dropping from where it had been massaging his chest. He did that sometimes, she'd noticed; touching the circle of scar tissue when he thought nobody was watching. "Hm?"

"Dinner, study-boy."

"Oh. Right." He unfolded his legs from under him, stretched, and got to his feet. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his cheek waffled where it had been pressed against his fist. "Thanks."

"No problem. Uh, Ryou."

"Yes?"

"Were you asleep before I called you?"

He dipped his head. "Not _right_ before…"

He'd been sleeping a hell of a lot, lately. Neither she nor Yuugi could figure out why, since they barely did anything to tire themselves out except study, watch reporters and play games. They'd started a role-play game a few evenings before, wherein the warriors Salt Shaker, Pepper Pot and Sugar Dish quested for the mystical Wine Glass so they could defeat the evil Broken Teapot. Ryou had run it, since he had more experience than either Yuugi or Anzu, but it wasn't as if it involved running marathons.

Anzu frowned and beckoned for Ryou to come closer. "C'mere and let me feel your forehead."

"I'm okay - "

"Forehead. Now."

He sighed and let her press a palm there.

"Hm. You don't feel too warm."

"I'm fine. Really."

"I'll be the judge of that. Do you feel queasy?"

"No."

"Is your balance okay?"

"Yes."

"How's your memory?"

"Fine."

"Two plus two?"

"Four."

"Prime numbers?"

"One, three, seven, eleven and thirteen."

"Fastest growing religion in Scotland?"

"Jediism."

"You read that article too, huh? Okay, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"That's a very rude gesture, Anzu."

"At least it proves you're eyesight's okay." She pursed her lips. "I wonder if you're getting enough iron…"

"Anzu, please, I'm fine. There's no need to fuss over me. Just because I'm a little tired doesn't mean there's anything more sinister going on. It just means I'm not used to sleeping anywhere but my own bed and it's starting to get to me."

Anzu blushed. Was it that obvious? After what he'd been through, there was always a compulsion to wrap Ryou in cotton wool the way Mrs. Mazaki wrapped up her shepherdess and cherub statuettes when they moved house. The only problem was that Ryou was a real person, and while he was quiet and gentle, he still had the capacity to get annoyed whenever anyone got too overprotective of him. "Sorry."

His face hadn't _hardened_, but there was a definite softening when she said that. Sometimes Ryou's facial expressions embraced the word 'subtle' in a way Anzu had never come across before.

She let him go before her, and then snapped her fingers. "Hang on. I forgot to put my earrings in this morning and I've been meaning to do it all day."

"Anzu! Ryou!" Yuugi called up the stairs. "It's going cold! What's taking you guys so long?"

"I'll go on ahead," said Ryou, edging out of the door.

"Yeah, probably best. You go pacify him while I try to find my ankhs. I know I left them here someplace …" Anzu rifled through her jewellery box, before tipping everything onto the bed so she could sift through it all.

Ryou nodded and slipped from the room.

* * *

"Go away!"

"Just one interview – please!"

"It's all lies! Leave me alone, or I'll take out a restraining order!" Anzu slammed the window. "If I knew how. Yuugi! Ryou! Lock the windows, quick. That tabloid journalist with the beard is sniffing around again."

The sitting room had that curious flickery blue glow that said television-on-at-night. Anzu hopped off the bottom step and pushed the door open without preamble. It was, after all, her house, and if she'd spent the evening upstairs doing protracted and painful trig homework then it was only fair she get to torment the boys for a while.

The door made a loud noise as it bounced. Mrs. Mazaki hated when anyone did that, claiming it deepened the dent on the wall. However, thoughts of her mother's irritation disappeared from Anzu's mind at the sight that greeted her.

Yuugi and Ryou flew backwards, away from the television. Yuugi dived for the remote, and even the flickery glow wasn't enough to disguise their blushing.

Anzu caught a glimpse of the screen before it went black. "Oh, no," she said. "Oh, _no, _you two were _not _using my TV to watch the adult channels' previews!"

"Okay, if you say so," Yuugi gabbled. "We weren't using your TV to watch the adult channels' previews."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not! Look at this face. Would this face lie to you?"

"That face has lied to me many, many times. Teenage boys or not, this is _my _TV, guys. I watch my anime on this thing! You've made it all oogy with your unbridled hormones and … ooginess."

"Ooginess?"

"The situation calls for new words."

Ryou said nothing, but blushed even harder. He would soon need a blood transfusion just to keep it going at that level.

"We were just watching it for … educational purposes?" Yuugi tried.

Anzu pursed her lips and made a sucking noise between her teeth, as if she were considering this reply. "Nope. Not good enough." Snatching up a cushion from the couch, she launched herself at him. "For contaminating my beloved television, you must be punished. Banzai!"

They rolled over like puppies, and for a second it was like they were ten years old again; kids too young to care much about social calendars or spiteful rumours. Anzu whacked Yuugi across the head so hard his spikes were flattened. He cried out at his lack of a weapon.

"Ryou! Quick! Rescue me from the deranged girl-monster!"

Ryou leaned forward on one hand, but stopped, obviously uncertain where he was meant to fit into this childish game. It had the look of something played many times before – a scrap of their shared childhood they couldn't quite bear to part with. Not quite yet.

"You can't pull the cootie card, Yuugi. Nobody who tried to watch what you were trying to watch believes in cooties."

"I'm a teenager! Isn't that defence enough?"

"I'll bet you talked Ryou into it, too."

"Hey, it's not like I glued his eyeballs to the screen. We were just trying to be more macho. Ryou, back me up here. Yaa!"

The cushion went spinning out and thumped Ryou in the face. He cried out, clapped his hands over his nose and screwed up his eyes. Both Yuugi and Anzu froze, play forgotten like all playground games when someone gets hurt.

Yuugi lifted his face off the floor, spat out a mouthful of hair and asked, "Are you okay?"

Ryou opened one eye and stared at them. Then the outer corner crinkled. It changed the whole look of his face. He picked up the cushion and turned it over in his hands. "I'm fine. But I think that counts as a invitation to the party."

"Hey! I didn't force you to look!"

"It _was_ your idea, Yuugi."

"But you went along with it!"

"Remember whose house you're in, Ryou. Remember who controls the food and toilet paper supplies."

"An excellent point. Sorry Yuugi. I believe the word is 'banzai'?"

* * *

Anzu was pacing the room like a wind-up toy, just as jittery and plastic, like she might break if she fell over. "I need to get out of here!"

"Don't we all?"

"You two could leave anytime you wanted. They aren't baying for _your_ blood."

"Thanks, but I'll stay right here, thank you very much." Yuugi had finally given up and started sewing the tear in his blazer. "I have proof right here that they aren't exactly gentle with us, never mind wanting to get to you instead of us poor sidekicks."

"Why haven't they given up and gone home yet, anyway? It's been five days!"

"It's because there are no wars or political scandal to replace you with," Ryou murmured. "For the foreseeable future, you're news."

"Some news," Anzu grumped, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. She'd missed her ballet class, and it was making her antsy. There was only so much practice you could do with a kitchen counter as a barre. "You know I caught one of those reporters going through the trash?"

"What was he looking for?"

"That's not my point, Yuugi. My point is, it's been a working week, and interest in my bogus affair with Kaiba hasn't so much as _dimmed _if random reporters from Podunk, Nowhere are pawing through my garbage."

"You didn't have anything icky in there, did you?"

"Yuugi, can we please focus?"

"Only, sometimes celebrity junk goes for a mint on eBay, and I'd hate for you to see your old underwear strewn across the Internet or anything."

Anzu frowned at him, but spent a moment thinking about what had been in the garbage cans. Nothing _truly _incriminating. Old food packaging, mostly. No scandal in bags of Doritos and frozen vegetables. As if she'd throw away old underwear at a time like this. She had more sense than … wait – what had she done with the paper full of doodles from when she couldn't sleep? She'd thrown it away. Of course she'd thrown it away. It was trash, right? And you threw … trash … away …

"Oh, hell's _bum_!"

"Excuse me?"

"You remember when I had insomnia a couple of nights ago?"

"How could I forget? You woke me up going to get all those glasses of water."

"Well, see, I kind of sat talking to Yami for a while, and while I was doing that, I doodled on this bit of paper I had on my desk. Which I then threw away."

"You threw your desk away?"

"Yuugi!"

"Sorry, corny and bad. What was so monstrous about the paper?"

"It was an old flyer for Battle City."

"Doesn't sound too bad. Unless they think you kept it because Seto Kaiba organised that tournament, but that's grasping at straws a little."

"What exactly did you doodle?" Ryou asked cautiously.

"You know when you aren't concentrating, and you kind of put your name with other people's?" At their blank looks she added, "It's a girl thing, maybe. Your first name, somebody else's last name. The names of friends, or cartoon characters you think might look cute together. Stuff like that."

Ryou's eyes widened. "Oh dear."

"What?" Yuugi looked between them both. "_What_?"

"Imagine the worst names I could put together in this kind of situation."

"Huh?"

"She wrote 'Anzu Kaiba'. Right?"

"Correct, and amongst other things. Don't read too much into it, but I think I also put down your surnames. And I think there was something about Otogi in there, too. Cue a bunch of reporters getting their second wind as they imagine me shamelessly lusting after all these pretty boys I hang around with." Anzu thunked her head backwards against the wall. "Why did you guys have to be so pretty?"

"Oh." Yuugi nodded in understanding. Then he stopped. "_Oh. _Oh, hell."

* * *

"She was always, like, with them at school."

"Yeah, totally. Joined at the hip, you know?"

"Yeah. At the _hips_."

"So you're saying there was some sort of relationship between Miss. Mazaki and Mr. Mutou? Or Mr. Bakura?"

"Well, there's the friendship thing, and then there's the _friendship _thing. What those three got up to? So very _thing_."

"They're, like, the social outcasts, y'know? Birds of a feather? A cornucopia of weirdnesses, all completely immune to the fashions of the outside world. Nobody else wanted them, so they banded together for, like, survival or something."

"I always wondered why they went off together at lunchtime. Guess they wanted some privacy, y'know?"

"What light do _you _think this throws on Miss Mazaki's supposed relationship with Seto Kaiba of Kaiba Corporation?"

"He's cute."

"Shut up, Kimi. Our generation has its own words for people like Anzu Mazaki, but I think it's better to leave that sort of language implied before the watershed, don't you?"

Ryou, Yuugi and Anzu gaped at the TV. Enough of the news vehicles had left for them to get the signal for a local station with a little twiddling of the aerial. Now they wished they hadn't bothered. Having no luck with either the Mazaki household, or Kaiba Corp. outside their official press conference, a reporter with a beard the colour of cat vomit was interviewing a few of their classmates – in particular some air-headed girls who giggled and primped and waved hi to anyone who knew them.

"Well, on a scale of one to ten, this sucks," Anzu muttered.

"I don't know what disturbs me more," said Yuugi. "What they're saying about us, or the fact that they know words like 'cornucopia'."

Anzu covered her face with her hands. "How did this happen? Those girls couldn't outwit a used teabag. How is it they're being used to make us look so bad? It's just a hop-skip and a jump from this to the word 'orgy', and then I'll have to move house. Seriously."

"Surely this is illegal," Ryou appealed. "Slanderous or something. You could sue the station for saying untrue things about you."

"With what money? Under the circumstances, my boss has been really good about me not working since this started, but I don't think he's going to give me that kind of advance on my next paycheque. Not even if I ask nice." Anzu scrubbed at her scalp in frustration and rage. The back of her neck prickled, and she knew Yami had come out to see what was wrong. "Long story short, Yami," she pre-empted him. "Media pretty much done with us, except for one television station. Local one, watched by many people who know us. They're implying threesomes and who-knows-what-else. All nonsense, but sellable and juicy nonsense. Thus, you find us on the verge of a full scale panic at the state of our social reputations."

"Did we have much of those to begin with?" Yuugi mused.

"Beside the point. Before, we were just weirdoes who associated with rich people and were pretty damn good at a card game. Now we're weirdoes who associate with rich people, are pretty damn good at a card game, and might be having kinky sex with each other on the side. I want the rumour about Kaiba and me back. That was simple. I could deal with that. I could _laugh_ at that. This? So very, very un-laughable."

Yami's expression was indecipherable, though something flared behind his eyes. He looked between them all, and then folded his arms. "_So what do you propose to do about it?_" He was always like that – focussing on the solution when they were all still hung up on the problem.

"Do? There's nothing we _can _do."

He snorted. "_Defeatist. There's always something._"

"I already _gave _statements denying my affair with Seto Kaiba. They didn't believe me about _that_, so why should they believe me about this?"

"_If the three of you stood together they may listen more attentively."_

"If we all stood together they'd doctor our photos so we weren't wearing any clothes."

Ryou's cheeks turned red, and Yuugi's eyes were round as saucers. "What's he saying?"

"Huh?"

"Yami. What's he _saying_?"

Oh yeah, they couldn't hear him, could they? She'd become so unexpectedly comfortable with them knowing about Yami that she sometimes forgot the limitations of their interaction with him as compared to her own. She gave them the abbreviated version.

"We could try it," Yuugi said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Why not? I'm sick of getting homework through email. I actually _want _to get back to school – not to mention my house. Not that I'm not grateful for the loans, but your clothes are either too big or too tight in bad places, Anzu. Plus, Grandpa's probably blown up the dishwasher while I've been gone. And besides, it's not like we have many options besides waiting it out and hoping it goes away. I mean, what have we got to lose? Really."

"Besides the remaining shreds of our dignity?" Anzu demanded.

Wordlessly, Ryou took the television off mute, and the sound of their classmates' giggling filled the room.

She sighed in submission. "I'll get the phone."

"Good call." Yuugi eyed the screen. "Man, I wish our problems were more normal."

"Wishing for normalcy is just wishing for more weirdness," Ryou murmured.

* * *

"I suppose we should be grateful."

"_Indeed."_

"Who could've predicted a supermodel's drug habit would come in so handy? Certainly saved our butts."

"_It did."_

"And to think she was found out right here in Domino, too. It's either an incredible stoke of luck – for us, not her, obviously – or a major coincidence bordering on a really bad plot device to a really cheesy novel."

"_Certainly."_

"Is my life really like a cheesy novel?"

"_I wouldn't know. I've never read one._"

"I suppose not. That'd be too classy for _my _life. It's more like some warped manga, or a serialised Saturday morning cartoon."

"_If you say so._"

"Of course, this means I have to go back to school."

"_Of course."_

"School. Place of education and mixing bowl for all elements of modern teen culture. After the mall, naturally. Not to mention uniforms with short pleated skirts."

"_Mm."_

"So what I'm trying to say is …" Anzu looked up. "Look, Yami, I'm trying to shave my legs. Can I please have some privacy?"

"_I had wished to speak with you."_

"Great. Bonding. But can it wait until there's no danger of me accidentally severing an artery?" Her bare foot squeaked as it half slid into the bathtub. The balancing act, never an easy task, was further challenged by Yami. There was something intensely unsettling about an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh perched on the toilet lid not six inches from where you had foam all over your leg.

"_Your ablutions are of no interest to me."_

"Glad to hear it. Neither are yours to me."

"_I don't actually - "_

"Overshare!"

Yami frowned. _"Stupid girl. I was about to say that, though they are of no interest to me, I don't understand why you, of all people, are concerned with your appearance after you talked so much of inner beauty and being true to oneself."_

Anzu picked up her razor and checked it for residue. "Guess I'm just a big ol' hypocrite."

"_You didn't do this while Yuugi and Ryou were here."_

"I also didn't wear any skirts while they were here. Especially not after they tried to watch porn in my sitting room."

"_Why hide this shaving ritual away if you think it's necessary?"_

"What's with the sudden interest in my toiletry habits? I don't ask _you _about this kind of stuff, do I?"

"_You could if you wanted to. I have nothing to hide."_

"Okay. Are there any toilets in the Puzzle maze?" She gave a low, fierce smile, which faded when Yami answered her.

"_Probably. There are many rooms I don't go into."_

The implications of that slid around her mind like soap in a shower, and she was just as loath to pick them up. "Oh."

* * *

"_I don't understand."_

"Of course not. You're a guy." Anzu popped two paracetamol from their packet and poured herself a glass of water. She winced when she had to extend her leg to work the pedal bin, tiny fists of pain clenching above her hipbones.

Yami watched her down the first tablet. _"And this happens every month?"_

"More or less. Though the side effects aren't usually this bad." She downed the second and drained her glass to wash away the chalky taste. "Ugh. And now I wait."

"_Those things you swallowed, they stop the … flow?" _Yami was never lost for words, but he showed an amount of forethought in choosing these.

"I wish. They're painkillers. Strictly small-time, of course. Mom won't have anything stronger in the house."

"And this affliction is common to all females?" 

"Affliction's maybe a strong word. Nuisance is a better one."

"_Affliction is a perfectly good word. Never before have I experienced such an ache without having physical damage visited upon myself."_

She looked down at herself. "Yeah, it is kind of like a punch in the guts. But like I said, it's not usually this bad."

"_I think I would've remembered feeling that way before."_

"Yeah, well – that'll teach you to listen to me when I say it's not a good idea to be in control today."

"_I only wished to speak to Yuugi - "_

"About that – he was very confused when you gasped and dropped the receiver. He thought we'd been attacked or something."

"_Inside your house?"_

"Remember who we're talking about." She winced again, digging one fist into her gut and one against her lower back. The feeling was not unlike her innards trying to hack their way out with a piece of broken glass. Plus her hormones were going haywire, making her swing between irritation and wanting to burst into tears for no reason. "Aah…"

"_How do you stand this every month?" _Yami asked, genuinely curious.

"It's not usually this pronounced. Stress makes it worse. More stress equals more pain."

He thought about that for a second._"…Oh." _

* * *

"Yami?"

"Yes, Otogi?"

"Doesn't it ever bother you?"

"Doesn't what ever bother me?"

"Being in a chick's body – and not in the good way."

Yami looked up from the chessboard. In ethereal mode by the TV, Anzu also looked up. Otogi had a huge flatscreen with surround sound and over a thousand digital channels to choose from. He'd made sure it was on a something she could enjoy while he and Yami got down to outdoing each other in yet another game. She sometimes got the feeling he'd never give up on trying to outclass Yami. He'd beaten him several times, in several different games, but it was never enough for either of them, which was why Otogi kept making challenges and Yami kept accepting them. The question caught her like a salmon on a hook. It was something she'd wondered about but never asked for reasons she couldn't really name.

Yami didn't answer for a moment. "Is this an attempt to 'psyche' me and win by default?"

"You kidding? Where's the fun in winning on a technicality?" Otogi grinned. "I just wondered, guy to guy, what it was like to do the sex change thing every time you want fresh air and a pair of lungs to breathe it with."

_Ouch. Real tactful, Otogi. _

Yami stared at him without blinking. "It's necessary," he said at last, and returned to the game.

But Otogi wasn't willing to just let it go. "Aw, c'mon. Seriously? Don't you feel even the slightest bit, y'know … emasculated?"

_What is it about hanging around with me that makes guys want to prove their manliness so much? _Anzu wondered.

Yami moved his Queen. "Considering the boundaries of modern society and your overall effeminate appearance and behaviour, I don't think you're really one to talk about emasculation, Otogi. At least I have an excuse. Checkmate."

Anzu sniggered as Otogi's jaw dropped.

* * *

_To be Continued …_

* * *

**Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs **

"_Honestly. You never used to talk like that."_

-- What, you thought sharing your headspace with someone as abrasive as Yami wouldn't change you? Not even a _little_?

"_Ryou's making his famous chilli-that-goes-up-to-eleven."_

-- Side-fling to DC's _Green Arrow _comic.

… _she was attached to her rose-coloured glasses enough that she'd convinced herself his arrogance and rudeness had just been a trick played by mean-spirited editors and reporters._

-- I think Mrs. Mazaki digests life with a couple of heavy-duty denial tablets.

_"You think I keep this figure by stuffing my face all the time?"_

-- Anyone else noticed how unnaturally _thin_ the male cast of YGO is?

"… _a guy I'd much rather send face-first down a dry ski-slope."_

-- Inspired by the 'winter sports' monologue from _Debauched Cherub _by the comedian Jeff Green. I think the CD is available on Amazon. If you can get hold of it, do. One of the funniest things I've heard in years, _and _it stands up to repeat listenings.

"_If I have to spend any more time around Seto Kaiba, I'm going to smack him so hard it'll send ripples back in time and prevent his furthest ancestors from planting baby seeds!"_

-- A line pilfered from Davan's father in the webcomic _Something Positive _by R.K. Millholland (w w w . somethingpositive . net)

"_Think about it. All the reports talk about the chemistry between Kaiba and me when we duel. And since I've never really been in control when that happens, what they're **actually **doing is saying that **you **and Kaiba would make a cute couple."_

-- I'd be lying if I said I didn't have LeDiz's YGO fic _Newspapers Are Evil _in mind when I wrote this.

_"Do you reckon I could get The Daily Trumpet to reimburse me for this?"_

-- Side-fling to Spider-Man in all his incarnations. The Daily Trumpet is, of course, a reference to The Daily Bugle, the newspaper Peter Parker freelances for.

"_Huh? Be kind. Rewind."_

-- From an episode of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, though I can't remember which one. Second or third season, I think.

"…_**So **not a good thing when you're borderline obsessive."_

-- He is. I don't care what anybody tells me, Yuugi _is_ a borderline obsessive. Just look at the sock game.

"_I even turned putting my socks on into a game."_

-- This actually happened in the manga. It was (imaginatively) called 'The Sock Concentration Game'. Before school, Yuugi set out every white sock he owned, after drawing different symbols on the heels of each and turning them over so they didn't show. Then he mixed them up and tried to guess which two had the same symbols without peeking. He claimed (and I quote from the English translation): "I'm training my sixth sense for gaming!" Of course, his mother was less than impressed and smacked him with a ladle for playing games when he should've been getting ready for school (incidentally, I think this was her only appearance. Not a good impression to leave with the reader). And I'll have all of you know that I spent twenty minutes digging through my bookshelf and going through my manga just so I could be accurate with my notations. To that end, the issue this occurred in was _Duel 41: Let's Find "Love"!_ which featured a plot about Tamagotchi-like things and Anzu's crush on Yami's voice. Rather silly, but entertaining.

"_You know, drawing is a lot like solving puzzles."_

-- I didn't actually intend for Yuugi to get so much into art as he did. It just kind of _happened _after a throwaway sentence from the segment this whole fic is based on in _Another Roll of the Dice: Five Things That Never Happened to the Cast of YGO_. Yet it actually turned out to make a lot of sense. This whole kitchen scene between Yuugi and Anzu is one of those scenes that wrote itself, without any consultation or permission from me.

"_We were just trying to be more macho."_

-- I imagine the scene preceding this went something like: "Ryou?" "Yeah, Yuugi?" "We hang out with a girl an awful lot, don't we?" "Yeah." "But neither of us have ever dated one before." "No." "I hope nobody thinks we're … not into girls just because of that." "Me too." "I mean, Anzu's our friend. I've hung out with her for years. You can be really, really good friends with a girl without needing to date her. Right?" "Uh-huh, I think so." "You _think so_?" "Okay, I hope so. I've been friends with lots of girls without ever being attracted to them." "Right." "That sounds really bad, doesn't it?" "So much. We need to show people we're still men." "Right. Uh, how do we do that?" "Well … real guys fight each other a lot, don't they?" "You mean like your old bullies do?" "Yeah, like Jounouchi and Honda." "I don't much like the idea of punching you. Or getting punched. Not just to prove a point." "Yeah, well … me neither, actually." "So what do we do?" "We could … we could start a basketball game at school so that the girls' skirts flap up. Everybody would be able to see we're red-blooded men then." "Wouldn't Anzu object to that?" "You're right, she'd probably kill us." "So … what then?" "Hm. The TV signal came back this morning, didn't it?" "Yeah. So what?" "If we can find a video tape to record on, I think I have an idea …" They probably intended to mention what they'd seen really loudly in front of their classmates, or even lend out the tape to prove what they'd been watching. Anzu was never meant to know what they were up to. Hey, if canon!Anzu has to defend herself against accusations of being a slut just because she hangs out with more guys than girls, then Yuugi and Ryou can feel they need to prove their masculinities here. It's only fair.

"_Only, sometimes celebrity junk goes for a mint on eBay, and I'd hate for you to see your old underwear strewn across the Internet or anything."_

-- Inspired by a storyline in the webcomic _Queen of Wands,_ by Aerie (w w w . queenofwands . net).

"_Oh, hell's **bum**!"_

-- Something Geraldine Granger says in the _Vicar of Dibley Easter Special_. I love that show, and I love that phrase.

"_You know when you aren't concentrating, and you kind of put your name with other people's?" At their blank looks she added, "It's a girl thing, maybe. Your first name, somebody else's last name. The names of friends, or cartoon characters you think might look cute together."_

-- I used to do this all the bloody time – especially in boring lessons. I'd usually go the whole hog and work out percentages of affection by totting up how many times the letters L-O-V-E-S appeared in each name and then adding up every pair of numbers from there. So Anzu Mazaki and Seto Kaiba would start out as 01011, then go to 1112, then to 223, and end up as 45. Oh, don't look at me like that. It was fun when I was fourteen.

_"A cornucopia of weirdnesses …"_

-- Twisted from something in _Kim Possible: A Sitch in Time_. The actual line was spoken by Ron Stoppable, and is as follows: "Time travel. It's a cornucopia of disturbing concepts."

"_Shut up, Kimi. Our generation has its own words for people like Anzu Mazaki, but I think it's better to leave that sort of language implied before the watershed, don't you?"_

-- I don't know whether it's the same in other countries, but on UK television (especially on the five terrestrial channels) there's a cut-off point called the 'watershed', which marks the arrival of more adult-themed, unsuitable-for-children programming. Oh, and there's a side-fling to _Kim Possible _in there as well, in deference to the 'cornucopia' comment above.

"_Well, on a scale of one to ten, this sucks."_

-- One of Xander's lines in the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ episode _Prophecy Girl _(first season finale).

"_Those girls couldn't outwit a used teabag."_

-- Taken from one of Kryten's lines in the _Red Dwarf IV _episode _Justice_. He was talking about Rimmer, but both contexts are accurate, I think.

"_Wishing for normalcy is just wishing for more weirdness."_

-- Borrowed from InterNutter's _X-Men: Evolution_ epic, _Don't Pity Me_. I've borrowed her commentary, too, because it fits better than anything I could come up with: "I just **adore** the logic of this argument. It took me a while to work it out, too."

"_Who could've predicted a supermodel's drug habit would come in so handy? Certainly saved our butts."_

-- The Kate Moss cocaine scandal erupted the day I was writing this and was wondering how the hell Anzu, Yuugi and Ryou were going to get out of Anzu's house. Handy indeed.

"_Not to mention uniforms with short pleated skirts."_

-- A lot of the Anzu bashing in fanfic is based on her being a 'slut', and a lot of that is based on some of her outfits in the anime. Now, none of my school skirts were as short as hers, but I can imagine it would get quite tiresome (not to mention breezy) having to wear something like that five days a week with no choice in the matter.

"_Overshare!"_

-- The word 'overshare' comes from the movie _Bring It On_, starring Kirsten Dunst and Eliza Dushku. That was one of the movies my sister and I bonded over when it was first released. Good times, gooood times…


	4. Taking

* * *

**4.**

* * *

Sometimes people don't realise they need rescuing until afterwards. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Anzu was changing the coffee filters when the bell above the café door jingled. "Hi there," she offered without turning around, going into the regular spiel as easily as she slipped on her favourite pair of shoes. "Welcome to Café La Terre. If you'll just wait a moment, I'll take your order. We at Café La Terre pride ourselves on providing the very best in cuisine and both hot and cold beverages, all of which are listed on our menu board at truly reasonable prices."

There was nobody else on duty, since her boss was taking a cigarette break out back and it was quiet enough that she was the only one on shift. Anzu dumped the old grounds in the trash, wiped her hands on her apron and turned around.

The blonde hair was familiar, and if the face had some new wrinkles – wrinkles! – then they weren't enough to make it unrecognisable. The eyes, however, looked far bleaker than she could ever remember seeing them.

"Mai?"

Mai raised her head, blinked a few times, and then realised who it was under the ridiculous purple and green uniform, with its frilly white apron and hat shaped like a folded out diaper. Anzu had recently taken to darkening her eyeliner, drawing little black curlicues at the corners of her eyes, but that and some concealer was all the make-up she could get away with at work. Mai's gaze dropped to check her nametag.

"Anzu Mazaki?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out. I haven't seen you in an absolute _age_."

"I've been … out of town." Mai's voice had a faraway quality, as though she'd just woken up. Emphasising this, she also sounded tired, the way Mrs. Mazaki sometimes did when she'd been looking through the old family photo albums. It set Anzu's mental alarm bells going out of pure habit. "I didn't expect to find you working in a place like this. Not after winning Kaiba's tournament."

"Meh. Duelling status only lasts so long, y'know?"

"Oh, I think I do."

The air behind her shimmered. Slowly, Yami's distinctive hairstyle took shape. _"She stinks of misery,"_ he proclaimed over Mai's shoulder. His expression was, as ever, inscrutable, but Anzu fancied she could see a hint of pity in there. He had once worked to save this woman's life, and now here she was, looking just as broken as when Malik left her sad, devastated body on the duelling field.

Sometimes the worst scars are the ones you can't see.

Anzu glanced at the clock. "Look, Mai, I finish in quarter of an hour. You want to … I don't know. You want to come back to my house and … talk for a bit? Maybe gossip and catch up on what we've been getting up to since we saw each other last?"

Mai looked taken aback at the offer.

"Or we could go somewhere else." Somewhere neutral. "Somewhere that serves better coffee than this place." Anzu cupped her mouth with her hand. "Just don't tell my boss I said that."

Mai stared at her for a long moment. Anzu thought she was going to say no, but then one side of her mouth tugged up into a weary half-smile and she nodded. "That'd be … nice."

* * *

Anzu knew that she'd always been a bit of a mother hen. In another world this might not have been so pronounced; she might have just been there for Yuugi when it suited her, and her friendship with Ryou might have been short-lived because of the different circles they moved in. But getting the Puzzle, the whole thing with Yami – and the rest – had instead sharpened her protective instincts to an edge that could rival Death's scythe.

It wasn't that she just felt responsible for everything that ever went wrong with the world, the way Yuugi sometimes did. It was more her internal monologue had a way of convincing her that everything that went wrong could somehow be traced back to her own actions.

And if there was one thing that got in the way of overcoming a guilt complex, it was discovering that everything really was your fault after all.

When Mai invited her back to her apartment rather than go out, Anzu accepted. She called her mother from the phone in the office at work, telling her she'd be getting a later bus. Then she climbed into Mai's car and they sat in heavy silence for the whole journey.

Buildings flashed past. Anzu was struck by the fact that she didn't actually know where Mai lived. For a second panic rose within her – the kind of irrational panic that consumes law-abiding citizens when they see a police car or pass a speed camera. She drove it away with the thought that Mai had been in plenty of situations where, had she planned to do anyone harm, she could easily have done just that but hadn't. So she didn't know all that much about the woman outside duelling contests. So what? Lasting friendships had been built on less.

The apartment was dark and smelled of dust and old takeout. "Sorry about the mess," Mai mumbled, kicking aside an empty pizza box and shuffling through to the kitchenette.

Anzu looked around before following.

"I've only got instant. No milk, either. Do you mind taking it black?"

In truth, Anzu wasn't much of a coffee drinker. Working around the stuff had put her off, but she nodded and sat down at the small breakfast bar while Mai jingled in cupboards looking for clean cups and saucers.

The apartment was miserable but big, and had the potential to be nice under the scattered boxes, clothes and unwashed dishes. It had the look of a bolthole; somewhere you went to hide for a while. It wasn't a place to be lived in.

"This place is … lovely." She tried to synthesise sincerity the way Rumplestiltskin spun gold from straw. "You've got a lot of space."

Mai shrugged. Everything she did was slurred, her movements running together with no real energy. The vibrant personality that had made the world sit up and take notice had faded, the same way as the petals on an unwatered plant left in the window for too long. It was disconcerting.

Anzu sighed. Might as well bite the bullet. "Since I'm doing such an excellent job of small talk, let's be straight. I haven't seen you around in a while. How've you been?"

Mai turned around and stared at her. "How have I … been?" She seemed amazed at the question.

"Yeah." Unsettled at the reaction – she wasn't much at small talk, but 'how've you been' wasn't a _terrible _opener, was it? – Anzu fumbled to pick the right words. "Y'know, since Battle City …" She twirled a hand at the wrist.

Mai looked hard at her, eyes narrowed.

Anzu flushed. "I know I had a few nightmares after my duel with Malik. It's not exactly something you can run to a psychiatrist for, though. Limited people who'll take you seriously when you say 'Shadow Games', right? Heh heh … Even fewer who aren't reaching for the white jackets if you try and explain all the crazy sh… all the crazy stuff that people like us have to deal with."

Yami stepped away from the counter as though he'd always been there. You could see the microwave through his torso._ "Excellent diplomacy. You should leave this sort of thing to Yuugi. He's less likely to eat his own foot. Stupid girl."_

Anzu ignored him. "So how're _you _holding up, Mai?"

The kettle switch flipped back to neutral as the water finished boiling. Mai continued to stare, until Anzu felt quite uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat.

"Of course, if you don't want to talk about it, I completely understand," she gabbled. "I mean, who am I to be so nosy? Jeez, I _told _you I'm bad at small talk."

"Not … want to talk about it?" Unexpectedly, Mai broke out into a wide smile. It was not a very nice smile. There was a sharp edge to it, like a knife in a nightmare. "Not want to talk about it?" she said again, laughing.

"Mai -"

"NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?"

Anzu froze. She'd never heard anyone sound quite like that before.

Mai stared at her, wild-eyed. For a second Anzu thought she was maybe going to throw something – a mug, maybe, or one of the dirty forks in the sink. Tension ran through her entire posture.

Then, as suddenly as she had tensed up, she crumpled. The fire went out of her eyes and she sank to the floor, sobbing.

Anzu didn't even think about it. She didn't remember getting up. She didn't remember crossing the room. She did, however, remember putting her arms around Mai and stroking her hair, soothing her as one would a child.

She wished she could have retained the unquestioning childhood belief that had been fed into her along with porridge and cod liver oil; that Good would always triumph over Evil. In reality Evil sometimes won, and even when Good came out on top, everything was not all healed. Everything was not all better. Evil had this way of working its claws under the skin and leaving marks that nobody could see.

Poor Mai. She was one of the walking wounded, and nobody had even noticed.

Anzu held the older woman close and shushed her softly.

Yami watched them. He hadn't moved from his spot by the counter, except to fold his arms. Anzu spared him a brief, helpless glance, which he held and turned into a longer look.

"_Stay," _he said simply, and vanished.

* * *

She did stay. After Mai had calmed down a little, Anzu unearthed the couch and helped her onto it. Then she investigated the cupboards and, finding no food apart from a jar of elderly mayonnaise, ordered some food from Ling-foo's Chinese Delights, which she paid for with part of her wage packet. While waiting for it to arrive, she finished making the coffee and brought two mugs through – one for Mai, and one for herself. Both went cold without so much as a sip.

Slowly, and with several pauses, Mai explained. Anzu had to tease at threads of the story, working them free with gentle coaxing and questions. At first Mai refused to say anything more than she'd been going through a 'rough patch', legendary pride planting itself in the way of any real communication. Anzu nodded, completely understanding the hidden meaning. Malik had tried to erase her from the universe, after all. She'd had several lucid dreams where Yami never won the duel, and she was obliterated by dark magick that nobody could stop. Mai listened, looking almost surprised that Anzu would tell her about such weaknesses, and the little nudges eventually unravelled a similar story.

She told Anzu what she'd been going through – the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the constant, nagging fear that her soul was once again about to be taken from her. As a professional duellist, after Battle City her days had been full of small to middling tournaments where she'd been ridiculed and pitied. Her nights were riddled with nightmares so potent she barely slept anymore. She didn't spell it out as such, but Anzu glued the fragments together to form a picture called 'breakdown'.

Mai claimed the worst thing was the helplessness. She hadn't been able to prevent Malik from doing what he did. Nothing had stopped him – not intervention, not appeals for mercy, not basic human decency. Yami-as-Anzu has thrown himself in front of her, but not even his magick had been enough. It was _violation,_ was what it was. Malik had taken everything that made her _her _and devalued it – because how much could it be worth if someone could just take it away so easily?

Anzu's stomach clenched. How had nobody noticed this? True, Mai wasn't part of the 'inner circle', as it were, but still. She was a friend. It was obscene, how all their friendship speeches hadn't done anything to help them realise the torture Mai had been enduring – and enduring all alone. Anzu had been too caught up with the rigmarole following Battle City to think much about her infrequently-seen friend – the interviews about her victory and the magnifying glass held over her life until the public lost interest in her supposed affair with Kaiba. After the initial cajoling, Mai's admissions of vulnerability and loneliness tumbled from her lips in a way nobody who knew her could have predicted. All it had taken was for someone to show an interest, and they hadn't even been able to manage _that _…

She stayed the night, calling her mother to tell her she'd met an old fried and was staying over, and then cobbling together a bed from the couch and some spare blankets. Mai didn't protest. She slept in her own bed, but left the door open so Anzu could run through when she screaming started.

Which it did.

After the third attack Anzu fetched herself a glass of water and perched on the couch to drink it. She could hear Mai breathing from here. Right now it was steady, which was about the best she could hope for. Talking had stirred up old ghosts. The shadows seemed to pulse with unseen menace. Anzu got the feeling neither she nor Mai would get much rest tonight.

The tugging inside her chest told her Yami was awake. The room was too dark to see, but she sensed him there.

"_She's damaged." _

It didn't _sound _like an insult…

"Yeah."

"_This is a very gracious thing you're doing."_

"Gracious?" She snorted. "What, staying with her? Like I could really do any different? And excuse me while I faint from the compliment."

"_You could have done different. A trader wouldn't sell damaged goods, and a buyer wouldn't purchase them."_

"Then it's a good job I'm off duty, huh?"

They sat in silence for a while. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence – heaven knew they had enough of _those _in their history – but rather one where neither person felt the need to say anything. Yami just stared into the gloom, while Anzu took quiet solace from his presence. He was, after all, supposed to be the Pharaoh who had once saved the world. There was a degree of comfort in that knowledge, even if he couldn't remember most of it.

"She's less there behind the eyes than she used to be."

"_Excuse me?"_

"Didn't you notice? Her eyes. Kind of … blank. Not happy or sad, not even when she was crying. Just blank." Anzu toyed with her glass. "Mai had the most … _expressive _eyes I'd ever seen. Well, after Yuugi. Hey, maybe it's something to do with the purple irises. Maybe people with purple eyes are just naturally … expressive …" She recalled that Yami had reddish-purple eyes and immediately wanted to withdraw her comment.

Yami didn't say anything.

"What should I do?"

He looked right _at _her. _"You're asking me?"_

"Yes, I'm asking you. I don't … There are a whole lot of things I've had to get used to since you landed in my life – a whole lot of things I've had to deal with. But I've done it, because I had a choice in the matter. I chose to stay involved when things got freaky. Well, freakier. But this … Mai never had a choice. She had all her choices taken away, and now they're limited again because, hey, who's going to believe her if she goes for psychological help and starts talking about ancient magicks and legacies of Egyptian tomb keepers and soul-stealers? They'll -" she dropped her voice from a whisper to barely a murmur, "they'll wrap her in a straightjacket before you can say Hayao Miyazaki."

"_I hardly think their response would be one of immediate incarceration."_

"Okay, so maybe the straightjacket is a little melodramatic. But the authorities would still want to put her into some kind of care. She doesn't have any family she can talk to, Yami. I'm assuming you heard what she said about her mom and dad."

"_I heard."_

"She's been coping with … with post-traumatic stress syndrome! And she's been doing it all alone because she thought she _had _to – because she thought she _ought _to. And now it's all coming out, and I'm the only one here, and I just don't know how to _deal _with this. Not properly. You're the pharaoh. You've made important decisions before. I … when I had nightmares, you were there. You … you made me feel like nothing could touch me. Mai doesn't have that. Tell me what I should do."

Yami was silent for a long while. At least it felt like a long while. It might have been only a few seconds, but in the dead of night, when there's nothing between you and the darkness of a room but your own perceptions, time takes on a new dimension.

"_I …" _he said eventually.

Anzu leaned forward. "Yes?"

"_I … don't know what to suggest."_

She slumped backwards onto the couch, glass balanced on her stomach.

Yami uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way. _"I wish I could tell you what course of action would be best, but in the time since you released me, I've come to realise that my judgment is not always perfect. I am not infallible, as you have often taken great delight in telling me."_

She groaned. "Did it have to be right now that you started listening to me?"

"My judgment has caused a great many hardships for people. Your friends. And if Miss Ishtar's words are to be believed, and I was indeed a pharaoh, then I would point out that my judgment also resulted in my soul being imprisoned in the Millennium Puzzle for five millennia."

"So your track record isn't great. Lots of people have off days."

He fixed her with a flat stare.

"Or ... more than just off days. But you're still the only one here, and you're still one of the few people who know what Mai went through. And, in spite of everything … I value your opinion."

"_No you don't."_

"It's a toss up, so I'll ask. Are you trying to be coy or stupid? You've saved my life before, you big doofus. You've saved a lot of lives. That counts when they tally up your karma. And you're willing to learn from your mistakes. You may be an overconfident, arrogant, melodramatic jerk sometimes, but hey, nobody's perfect."

Saltwater, warehouses and the news report with the correspondent down by the docks, police lights still whirring brightly even though it was daytime.

Anzu swallowed. "Right?"

Yami's face didn't _crumple_, but it tightened, all over, for one quick, frightening second. _"I think you're overestimating any suggestion I might give. Otogi recovered from Malik's possession without outside interference."_

"That's because he wasn't aware enough to realise what was happening to him while Malik's better half was in control. Mai _was_. We might as well cut the bull and just call it mind rape, because that's what it was, and there aren't any textbook answers on how you help someone recover from that."

Yami uncrossed his legs again and leaned forward, hands steepled. _"I would simply say that company is the best remedy. Mai's greatest fear is that her soul will be taken again and placed in solitude, correct? Therefore, she should realise that her friends will not allow that to happen."_

"Right. Right, I'm _so _calling Yuugi and Ryou and giving them the heads up in the morning. I could try Otogi again, but I doubt it'll do much good unless he's replaced that pretty secretary with someone with an actual _brain_."

"Ryou?"

"Well, yeah. You banished the Spirit when you took the Ring away from him, right?"

"_The Ring is gone."_

"So he should be fine now. Right?" She gave a hopeful smile. She didn't need to think that two of her small gallery of friends were in pain and danger more than they had to be.

"_I suppose so." _Yami didn't invest the words with much conviction.

Anzu put her glass on the floor and picked up the Millennium Puzzle. She ran her fingertips over the edges, thinking how sharp they still were, considering how old the artefact was and all that it had been through. "The entire Malik thing messed everybody up in some way. Mai's a wreck, Ryou can't assume the Spirit of the Ring won't come back again, Yuugi was nearly killed – even Otogi survived a car wreck, a kidnapping and a possession. I know they all just need to work through it in whatever way works for them, but it's hard playing the spectator, y'know?"

"_You can't solve everyone's problems all the time, Anzu."_

"Huh. I can't even do it some of the time." She pressed one sharp metal corner into the pad of her finger so hard it left a mark. "Yami."

"_Yes?"_

"Since we're having this big heart to heart, can I ask you a question?"

"_Yes."_

"Do you still like Yuugi? I mean _like him _like him."

"_Why do you ask?"_

"I just wanted to know."

"_Yes."_

"Yes, you do still like him?"

"_I can feel that you already knew what my answer would be."_

She leaned her head back. "Kind of."

"_So why did you ask? I don't see how that's relevant to the present conversation."_

"Please, Yami. Just work with me for a second."

"_Hm."_

"When did you first fall in love with him?"

Yami leaned back, eyes hard, voice flat and strangely compelling. _"I am not in love with him." _Even those brief words had to be pried off his tongue. Whatever his affinity for long speeches proclaiming the benefits of friendship, unity, team spirit, yadda yadda yadda, he kept the cards of his own feelings surprisingly close to his chest.

Anzu sat up. "What? But I thought - "

"_I am, however, a little in love with the idea of him. What he represents."_

"Huh?"

"_The moment I connected with **that** was when I was still quite new this … situation."_ He was choosing his words carefully, and that was enough to make her prick her proverbial ears._ "Whenever this body I found myself in was threatened, I would lash out; a defence mechanism, if you will. I was not very … coherent at the time, but I was learning things about you and your life. Those discoveries helped me become more conscious of the world and my new place in it. Though I couldn't remember much about where I came from, I knew that this world was strange to me. So, when harm did befall you, I went to the one your memories identified as an ally."_

"Yuugi."

"_It was not a specific moment in his company, you understand."_

"I know. It never works like that. Yuugi's the kind of person who gets under your skin so good you don't even realise he's important to you until you want to leave the people who hurt him outside the hospital in a shopping cart."

Yami didn't arch an eyebrow, nor did he smirk knowingly. _"Indeed."_

"Except that I don't think I'm in love with him."

He didn't give pause, though she got the feeling he'd put a lot of thought into his next words. _"Yuugi is exceptional. I could see that he holds his heart out for everyone to see and touch. Over time, I began to worry that it would be bruised or torn more than it already was, or perhaps ruined altogether. It was the first thing I'd truly felt apart from a need to defend y-… this body. It reminded me that I am a person, not just some vengeful demon. He is … different. Because of that, more than anything I wanted to keep Yuugi's heart safe. Keep it whole. And maybe … maybe warm it a little with my own. Just to see what it felt like."_

"That's … that's actually quite beautiful. Or, taken literally, incredibly gross."

"_You want to ask me another question. Go on."_

"All right." She took a breath. "Did you ever kill anyone using my body?"

This answer came quicker._ "I defended you."_

"Did you kill that man by the docks?" She didn't have to explain which one.

"_He rushed me when I was standing at the end of the quay. I simply stepped aside. He fell into the water and drowned."_

"And you didn't help him?"

"_Stupid girl. We would have drowned, too. I challenged him to a Shadow Game at first; one designed to reveal the true shape of his soul. He was as full of darkness as any evil spirit I have ever encountered. I saw no loss coming from his death, only a lack of whatever pain and suffering he might have caused others – the kind of pain and suffering he might have cause you, had I not been there."_

She bit her lip. "And now?"

"_Now? I … don't know."_

That was the answer she'd wanted to hear.

However much he'd been institutionalised by the 21st Century, Yami was from a different world. His values were a hodgepodge of old and new, ancient Egyptian royalty and whatever contemporary stuff he'd absorbed from her. If it came down to it, if there was no other choice and it was one of _them_, those people, those _friends_ he'd connected with, or someone else, he'd defend them to the hilt. He'd kill for them – but not unhesitatingly, and he'd _feel_ something afterwards. He wouldn't just put a death down to collateral damage. He'd been exposed to other opinions, other schools of thought too much now – he'd be forced to think about the ramifications of killing even in a last-resort situation. This was not ancient Egypt anymore.

A small, sad smile found Anzu's lips. "It's hard, you know."

"_Hm?_"

"I wish I could help you remember your past – but at the same time, I don't want you to remember at all. Because then you might change. It's selfish and dumb, because you obviously really want to know who you are. But if your old self is as cruel and ruthless as you used to be … then I'd rather share my bo- … self with you for the rest of my life, so you can stay this basically good person you've become."

She could feel Yami staring at her. His gaze drew closer, but she kept her own eyes averted, so that when he came into her field of vision she could see his knees and feet and not much else. He crouched so he could look up into her face, and his wasn't _open_ so much as it wasn't quite as closed as it had been before they started talking.

Slowly, he placed a hand on top of the Puzzle, and then slid it over the side so that it looked like he was cupping hers against it. Except that he wasn't, really, because for all his recent nobility and egotism and fucked-up-ish-ness, he was still dead. Dead and dust – or not even that.

Anzu closed her eyes, trying to seek out the feel of his hand. He was too _real _to be dead. Dead people were mouldy things under the ground; bodies cremated and scattered or kept in a pot on someone's mantelpiece. But there was nothing touching the backs of her hands. He _was_ dead, and he had been for thousands of years.

And then … something.

It felt like the ghost of cobwebs, spun by long-dead spiders and carelessly walked into. Not one of those shimmery webs that sparkled when it was covered in dew, but a thick, cloying one that looked kind of like stretched-out cotton wool, and which you still found stuck behind your ear or clinging to your clothes after you'd brushed vigorously at yourself, like, a zillion times. The hairs on her hands prickled.

"_I am not good," _Yami told her. _"Not truly."_

She might have answered, except a scream stopped her the moment she opened her mouth. It wasn't her scream, but it shattered the moment just as effectively.

Yami pulled back as if stung. "_You should go to her._"

Anzu nodded dumbly and went through to where Mai was sitting up in bed, sheets pooled around her waist. Her skin and nightclothes were drenched with sweat, her eyes wide open, pupils like a cat staring down a truck on a dark road.

"I can't go back," she shouted, shrill and insistent. "I won't go back! I _won't_!"

"Mai." Anzu seated herself on the edge of the bed and touched the tangled clasp of hand and sheet. "Hush. It's okay now. Nobody's going to make you go back." She reached out to turn on the bedside light. It chased back the shadows and cast a soft yellow glow on them both.

"A-Anzu?" Mai's voiced shrank to a plaintive whisper. One hand snapped around Anzu's elbow, squeezing. Her nails were blotchy white from zinc deficiency and her hair clung to her head and neck in odd peaks and troughs. "You're still here?"

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"Still here. Still. You're still here."

Anzu could feel Yami's eyes on her back as she gently coaxed Mai's head onto the pillows and watched her fall asleep. Mai's hand remained wrapped uncomfortably around her elbow throughout, and when she finally peeled her fingers off they'd left red marks in her skin.

* * *

"_You look awful."_

"Thanks."

It was morning – proper morning, not just the dull grey horizon she'd seen the last time she was awake. Rubbing her eyes, Anzu rolled off the couch and massaged her feet. Why was it your toes got so cold while you were sleeping, anyway? They felt like blocks of ice. She moved like they were, too, as she slithered into the kitchen for a drink to cleanse her scratchy throat.

Merciless daylight revealed just how run down Mai's apartment really was. A vacuum cleaner stood in the corner, covered in an ironic layer of dust. Finding bin liners and stuffing them with some of the debris and old takeout boxes stirred up enough dust that Anzu was forced to open a window despite the early morning chill. It woke her up, but being more alert just made her realise how much needed to be done to make the place presentable – or if not that, then at least less of a haven for pests.

A crime scene analyst would easily have spotted the evidence of past tantrums – splatter marks against the walls, smashed ornaments, books with pages torn out and then dumped on the coffee table. The waste paper basket surrendered a whole packet of pencils, all but one snapped in half without even being sharpened, and wrapped in a sheet of paper with a few words of spidery, nonsensical scrawl. Anzu read two and then hastily threw the rest away without unwrapping them.

_Thank heaven for Sundays. Not._

If it'd been Saturday she would've had school all morning. As it was, she was supposed to be meeting Ryou and Yuugi later. They were going to see a movie before she was on the evening shift at work. They'd been looking forward to it all week – all three were still playing catch-up for the large chunks of time they'd missed this year, so there wasn't a great deal of time they could call their own where they weren't forced to study. Well, she'd just have to cancel now. No other choice. Luckily, the phone line was still connected, although Anzu drew her sleeve over her hand for protection before she picked up the curiously sticky receiver.

Mai was still sleeping when she looked in. She didn't look peaceful, but she was resting, and that was a good thing, right? Anzu closed the door so as not to disturb her while she got cracking with Operation Clean-Up.

"At least I've had a lot of experience sweeping and mopping at work," she muttered.

"_Indeed." _Yami didn't seem to mind sitting on a dirty work surface. Of course, being an intangible spirit might have had something to do with it. _"Your accolades in the field of cleaning are impressive."_

Whatever connection they'd shared the night before, it had faded in the cold light of day. Anzu felt it like a physical thing – a piece of hot metal going from orange to dull grey. Solid. Uncompromising.

Cold.

A sliver of unexpected bitterness sparked within her.

"Oh shut up, Mr. No-Help."

* * *

"Surprise!"

"Yuugi? Ryou? What are you–? How did you guys find this place?"

"It wasn't easy." Yuugi kicked off his shoes with only a little difficulty. "But then we thought, hey, what's the point in having rich and powerful friends if you can't take advantage of their connections once in a while?"

"Which was where I came in." Otogi dangled his car keys from one long finger. "Having a set of wheels helped, of course. As did the fact there was a board meeting with a load of stuffed shirts and killjoy economists that was just _aching_ for me to skip it."

"But why– I mean, how come you– I told you to go to the movies without me."

Ryou slipped past carrying plastic bags filled with lumpy things and at least one loaf of wholemeal bread. "Friendship isn't something you're supposed to neglect," he said quietly.

"Did you really think we'd leave you to do this on your own?" Yuugi added.

"It's not a _chore_. I'm here because I want to be."

"So are we," he grinned.

Yami was there, watching him, and suddenly everything he'd said last night came flooding back to Anzu. Yuugi's smile was like lemon juice in milk. She drew the back of one hand across her forehead to shield her expression a little, but nodded and ushered them into an apartment that wasn't hers.

"Nice threads, sweetie," Otogi commented of her work-uniform-turned-cleaner-wear.

She'd found an old scarf and knotted it around her head to keep her hair from her eyes – not the most fashionable of things, and when she caught sight of her reflection in the window Anzu saw a fifties housewife who'd forgotten her floral apron when she went out to scrub the front step.

"Screw you," she said without malice.

Ryou and Yuugi were already bickering over whether they should unload the groceries they'd brought, or get to cleaning out some of the cupboards first. Otogi smirked when Anzu plunged in to mediate and ended up arguing with them instead. She was just threatened to knock their heads together when his expression changed to uncertainty, and he cleared his throat loudly to get their attention.

"Huh?" As one, they looked up.

Mai was in the doorway. Still in her nightdress, and with flecks of old mascara on her cheeks and forehead, she stared at the four of them like they were total strangers.

Their bickering evaporated, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence that made the winter chill seem like a sauna.

Anzu didn't know what to say. She hadn't known the guys were coming over, and so hadn't warned Mai. She didn't know what to make of the expression now playing about her lips – did that mean she was pleased to see them, or outraged someone had opened her home to the world so freely? She used to be fastidious about her appearance. What was to say her apartment was any different? Not so much that she kept it clean, as so obviously wasn't the case, but maybe so much that she didn't want others seeing it in its current state – or herself, for that matter.

Like the connection with Yami, Mai's outpourings now seemed faded, as though part of some horrible nightmare – and like most nightmares it seemed uncommonly silly in daylight. Only the gauntness of her cheeks and the tear-streaked puffiness around her eyes convinced Anzu she hadn't just dreamed it all.

"Hey, sweetcheeks." Otogi was, surprisingly, the first to break the silence. It shattered around him like sugar glass. "Fancy a breakfast bagel?"

Mai stared at him. "A … bagel?"

"Mm-hm. Fresh from the best deli this little city has to offer. Granted, considering the time it's more of a brunch bagel, but it's still a fantastic handheld stack of nourishment and carbs." He fished in a brown paper bag and held out something round wrapped in greaseproof paper. "I swear by these babies. Can't figure out new ways to beat out my business rivals unless I've had my morning coffee and bagel."

Mai looked at the offering and back at his face. Then she swept her gaze around the room and furrowed her brow. "Why are you here?" she asked angrily.

"Can't a trio of devastatingly handsome men drop in unannounced without being interrogated?" Otogi asked.

"We're here because Anzu told us you needed us," said Yuugi.

"Oh she did, did she?" Mai shot Anzu a look that could have frozen the steam off a cappuccino.

"Sort of," Anzu admitted, feeling uncomfortable. "I said you … weren't well. But I only told them the abridged version, though."

"And when you heard about how poor little Mai went all to pieces, you all felt guilty and decided to come running to clear your consciences. Is that right?"

"That's not it at all," Ryou protested.

"Oh? Then what is it? Because I'd really like to know why you decided to show up _now _instead of, say, weeks ago. The timing seems just a _little _convenient. Pfft. You guys make me sick."

Ryou blanched, and Yuugi looked upset. Otogi's expression slammed shut completely.

This wasn't what Anzu had expected at all. Mai had been so broken, so helpless, she'd thought a serving of piping hot friendship would help bring her out of herself – maybe stop her obvious downward spiral. Instead, it seemed to be having the exact opposite effect. Where she had been grateful for company when she awoke screaming, now she seemed outraged and insulted at even the suggestion.

Which was kind of understandable, she supposed. Kind of. They _had _neglected Mai when she needed them. She had every right to feel snubbed. It was just unsettling to hear someone start ranting when you had their heartfelt dried snot on your shoulder.

"I'm not a charity case," Mai snapped. "I don't need 'saving', and I don't need you to baby me. Yes, I went through hell after Battle City. And on that note, where were you when I really needed you? You were off enjoying your glory, not thinking about me. Which is fine. I never made contact with you. I'm my own person. I'm an independent, kick-ass modern woman. Why should you think anything was wrong? But showing up now because the guilt bugs are biting at your nuts? Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take the sympathy when it's sincere."

"Mai, we're not here because we feel guilty."

"Be quiet, Anzu. You were there for me last night, and don't think I'm not grateful for that. But I haven't forgotten how you were off playing footsy with Seto Kaiba when I needed a friend. Friendship was always your forte, wasn't it? When you duel, you talk about how friendship makes you stronger, how you battle for your friends and you never would have gotten anywhere without friends by your side and watching your back. You're like the poster child for all that touchy feely team spirit crap. Bull! Obviously you weren't watching _my _back. Or wasn't it pretty enough for you? Do you only watch the backs of boys you've got the hots for?"

"Now that's uncalled for," Otogi interrupted.

"Really? Oh, excuse me. I should be spouting sweetness and light, weeping and telling you how _grateful _I am for the gift of friendship you're so _graciously _bestowing on me. I don't _deserve _such kindness – really. What's negligence and being ignored? Screw resentment – I have a bagel!"

"**Enough!**"

The force behind the word was enough to stun everyone into silence – even Mai. She narrowed her eyes, but the vitriol stayed behind her clenched teeth.

Anzu flexed her ethereal fingers and hoped she'd made the right decision.

Yami looked out of her eyes at Mai – right _into _her – and said in a low voice, "You've been hurt. We know this. Bitterness is your right, but it won't help anything. Will getting angry at us make the nightmares go away? Will it renew your love of duelling? Will it help you rebuild your life, your health, your self-worth? No, it won't. And the sooner you realise that, the sooner you can get on with repairing what Malik's evil and our selfish inattentiveness have injured."

Mai opened and shut her mouth, but no sound came out.

_Please be the right decision. Please._

"You have every right to be angry, Mai. But not at us. Right now, we're the only people willing to answer your call for help. Are you really willing to spurn us just because of hurt feelings? You need us, Mai. And while we don't _need _to help you, we want to. We want to because you're a friend. You're important to us. Our actions aren't totally free from guilt, but helping you simply for the sake of doing so is a much greater reason for our being here. We all risked our lives to save you from the Malik's shadows. We've all felt the sting of his magick in some way, and some of us are still rec0overing ourselves. Consider that before you say any other ill-thought-out remarks."

Yuugi and Ryou could tell Yami was in control. You could see it in their faces. It was just dawning on Otogi, but Mai's expression was inscrutable. Behind her eyes a stone skipped across a lake of emotions, a different one passing over her features every time it hit the water. Anzu waited without breath to see what would happen.

There was a sense of isolation to Mai's apartment, of being far from the rest of the world; but as Mai glared at Yami and the others, as her expression slowly fractured and split apart, and she took that first tentative, _painful _step towards recovery … it suddenly seemed a whole lot closer.

* * *

Anzu still had to go to work. She couldn't afford not to.

Café La Terre seemed louder than usual, and more unruly than she could ever remember it. Her boss even banned one regular, who had parked up for the night in a nearby lot and taken the opportunity for a little Dutch Courage. The ruckus should have taken her mind off things, but she still saw the reflections of her friends in every cup of coffee and pot of tea she poured.

Afterwards she had to go home for a change of clothes. She'd slept in one of Mai's nightdresses, but cleaned in her work uniform and hoped her apron covered most of the grime later. Very unhygienic, but it couldn't be helped, and she honestly couldn't bring herself to care.

Her mother was out somewhere – an evening class, maybe, or with Omishi, a man she'd met while learning to paint. Anzu wrote her a note after packing some night things and checking the answering machine. There were two messages: one from a telemarketer from an insurance company, and one from her father.

Mr. Mazaki's was nothing much. His messages rarely were. Just a quick hello, how are you, how's your mother, sorry for missing you and we really should get together for dinner and a chat sometime. When it was done Anzu stared at the answering machine for a while, not quite sure what to think.

She wasn't saddened by her father's contact, but neither was she overjoyed to hear from him. Rather, his voice just underscored the weird feeling that had percolated in her gut since the morning.

It had been just over twenty-four hours since Mai walked into Café La Terre. How much had gone ahead and happened since then? Too much, probably. Or not enough. You really couldn't tell until afterwards. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

The pattern of Anzu's life and the lives of those around her up to that moment suddenly solidified into a giant lump of pain and hidden frailties.

Yuugi. Perennial victim with a martyr complex and a grandfather with a dicky heart. One parent dead and the other was just … Mrs. Mutou.

Otogi. 'Lonely at the top' was the phrase, wasn't it? Most people who learned that had years before they had to appreciate what it meant. Being a protégé was a double-edged sword.

Mai. Poor Mai. That was all she could think anymore, even though she felt guilty as all hell doing it because Mai was still fiercely independent and proud while she clung at people. Poor Mai.

And Ryou.

It was probably good for Ryou to be over at Mai's, in the company of others. That time they'd spent trapped in Anzu's house with the reporters outside immediately after Battle City had prevented him from wallowing in his own self-pity, or becoming completely paranoid with worry over the Spirit of the Ring. It had been hard both ways, because he was naturally reticent anyway. She'd learned just how much when she picked an envelope up off her kitchen floor and caught the letter that fell out. Ryou had snatched it from her hand, uncharacteristically rough and then immediately contrite. That was how she'd learned about Amane.

That period of imprisonment meant she'd learned a lot about her friends that she probably never would've known otherwise.

Without even meaning to, Anzu, Yuugi and, to an extent, even Yami, had pulled Ryou out of himself and given him a reason to stay in reality – something he never could have done sitting alone in his empty apartment.

On some level they were probably trying the same tactic with Mai.

Anzu sat on a wall by the bus stop, needing space to think that Otogi's car wouldn't provide. She munched absently on a rice ball her mother had left in the fridge, examining passers-by. Tall and short, skinny and overweight, couples, individuals – a wealth of conversations, expressions, snatches of other lives.

She did it every night that week, and then the next when going over to Mai's or meeting her friends somewhere else. Anzu found herself watching people more and more, he eyes drawn to those around her when she would've usually tuned them out as background noise.

What sort of homes were these nameless people returning to? she wondered. How many had faced – or were facing – tragedy, or had it yet to come? She often had such thoughts now, and would walk through school or along a street looking at people, imagining them all weighed down by some dire form of stress.

Once, in a rare moment of communication, she let a few of these thoughts slip to her mother. Surprised and alarmed, and maybe thinking it had something to do with her father's contact – the promise of dinner and a chat had fallen through once again – Mrs. Mazaki tried to comfort Anzu, telling her that in the end most people adjusted to their pain – though it might never be properly healed. Anzu must not, she adjured, go around thinking that everyone's heart was breaking. You could very easily be happy and sad at the same time, and small pleasures were often remembered more than large troubles.

Anzu nodded and tried hard to understand. Intellectually, it was easy. It was the stuff of a thousand pins and bumper stickers – shit happened. Bad things cropped up all over the place. You couldn't stop them – not all of them. Sometimes you just had to soldier on regardless, living in spite of the bad stuff, or on top of it; laying a board between you and the crap that had come before the present moment. It was how you _dealt _that counted.

Emotionally, however, it was harder to grasp. _How _did you ignore the bad stuff enough to concentrate on the good? How did you function in the little day-to-day things when all around you the people you loved were hurting _and not mentioning it?_ Sometimes it seemed like she knew as much about them as any person who passed her on the street. Sometimes it seemed less.

Since that conversation, Mrs. Mazaki had started devising surprise treats for her daughter. She knew one of Anzu's friends had recently gone through a mysterious hardship that demanded company, and large doses of it. It wasn't her way to pry – which was probably a reason she'd never found out about Yami – but little things tipped her off that it was serious, and it was as if she feared this hardship was turning Anzu towards a depression of her own. A new pair of ballet shoes was on her bed when she got home from school one day. Her favourite flavour of ice cream appeared in the freezer. One Sunday her mother woke her to say that they were going to the circus, where they spent the day laughing and marvelling at all the things that would grow stale if they were rooted in one spot too long.

Mrs. Mazaki didn't snoop, which Anzu was glad for, since she didn't know how much she would've believed anyway, but she tried to help lay that board between the past and the present that Anzu could balance on so the future wouldn't knock her for six.

"_She loves you very much_," Yami commented that night.

"Uh-huh."

"_I sometimes wish that I remembered more of my own mother and father_."

Anzu paused in looking under her bed for her other tennis pump. "I – wish I could help you," she said, awkwardly sincere. "I do. Honest." No inflection. No point. He could see she meant it underneath.

He smiled then. Always so unexpected, that smile – that _real _smile, as if he were suddenly seeing her and liking what he saw. It made her feel both pleased and slightly sick that she wanted that … _approval_ from a lump of metal that only glowed orange when you weren't looking.

_I hate you_, she thought privately, but even to her it sounded false.

* * *

"You're sure you'll be okay?"

"Mom, I'll be fine. Really. I can take care of myself."

The tannoy boomed. Mrs. Mazaki looked up and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "That's my train. Now, if you need anything, you _will_ call me, right?"

"Mo-om."

"I'm your mother, Anzu. I'm allowed to needlessly fuss and worry about you. It's in the handbook."

"If I need anything I'll call Grandma's straight away."

"And you have my cell number, don't you?"

"Programmed into mine." Anzu held up her phone with her mother's name on screen to prove it. "Now get going before the train leaves without you."

Mrs. Mazaki made a frustrated face. "I wish you could get time off to come with me."

"I'll book some extra holiday from work next school break. Then we can spend a whole week at Grandma's."

"I suppose that'll have to do." Her face said she'd hoped Anzu would change her mind at the last minute and chase after the train like in some American black and white movie. When it was quite obvious this wasn't going to happen, she let out a breath and picked up her tote bag. "Love you, sweetie."

Anzu received the kiss on her forehead and returned it with one to her mother's cheek. For a second Mrs. Mazaki looked puzzled, but then she shook it away and started off down the platform.

Hands jammed into the pockets of her coat, Anzu watched until her mother was safely onto a carriage. Her fingers were sweating. She could have gone with her, had she really wanted to, but she hadn't wanted to spoil the visit with her own gloom.

_Go away, black cloud. You're spoiling my groove._

For a billionth time, her melancholy looked sidelong at her and flipped a middle-finger salute.

Yami came walking back up the platform. With every step he took, the tightness in Anzu's chest alleviated a little more. He could go far further from her than in the beginning, but there were still limits to how far they could stretch the psychic link before it started to hurt. They'd been experimenting before Mai walked back into their lives, and now they didn't know how far they could travel apart before one or both of them felt the burn.

"_She's sitting next to a woman in a very bad hat," _Yami said.

Anzu nodded.

There was a familiar face by the carriage next to her mothers. A boy about Anzu's age stared up at one of the train windows, where a woman and girl who bore a striking resemblance to each other were sitting. The window was open and the girl was saying something, knuckles just visible over the rim of metal. She wore dark glasses, and Anzu could see the strap of a white cane looped around her wrist.

When the train pulled away the boy took a few steps after it, waving furiously. He came to a stop not far from where Anzu was standing, and when the train was gone he turned and froze. His eyes were not as hard as they used to be, but they were still guarded, and his posture still exuded a 'punch first, ask questions later' attitude. Despite this, Anzu recognised something in him; some sense that he was as tied down as she felt. It stretched between them, thin and brittle as a piece of wire in a frost.

The boy turned his back, and the feeling snapped and curled backwards over itself towards either one. He walked away, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. It was a scruffy green thing, torn at one elbow and covering a shirt that looked like a casualty in a canteen war. He walked like he didn't want to go where he was going.

When Anzu finally turned around, so did she.

* * *

Yami looked like the kind of person you could depend on – not the way you could depend on some guys _not _to call, but in an 'I'll get you out of that burning building' sort of way. Being all gung-ho could get incredibly tiresome – especially when it came with his peculiar brand of bull-headedness – but sometimes it also proved incredibly useful.

"It's never going to happen for me."

"What?"

Anzu stared at the glossy photograph advertising Swan Lake at the Domino Hippodrome. The ballerina's hair was completely obscured by her feathered headdress; her tiny shape flared outwards in a tutu more splendid than any worn by the corps in the background. They were the guppies to her rainbow fish, even though all of them wore white.

A letter sat next to Anzu on the bed, the torn envelope beneath it. Yami tried to see what was written.

"I've been let go," she told him.

"Let go?"

"From my ballet class. I missed too many sessions. Fell too far behind. I can audition to join again next academic year if I want, but…"

"_Don't you want to?"_

"I don't know."

"_I thought it was your dream to dance."_

"It was. Is."

"_You missed the classes because you were spending time with Mai."_

"Amongst other things. I just haven't been concentrating properly lately. It was a specialised class – it wasn't just for being taught, it was for getting noticed by scholarship committees and stuff. I've been making a lot of beginner's mistakes … always thinking about something else – about _being _somewhere else. I used to go to ballet to _forget_ …" She crumpled up the advert and tossed it at the waste paper basket, which it bounced off to hide behind her chest of drawers. "It's just not the same anymore. I don't enjoy it as much as I used to – as much as I should to keep that old dream. You need commitment for that sort of thing."

"_You're very committed."_

"More like I should _be_ committed. Just leave it, Yami. It's not worth it."

Life had trapped her. And it had been sneaky about it – sending out tendrils one at a time and then tightening them all at once, tying her down so thoroughly that just thinking about breaking free made her feel tired. She was tied to her friends, to the Puzzle, to her family, to her job, to Domino – to her home. Except that home wasn't where the heart was after all. Home was what guilt pinned you to, brittle wings forever stretched out in a pitiful mockery of flight. Home was where you _belonged_.

"_All right, that's it."_

"Huh?" She looked up into Yami's shadow. Strange that a spirit could even cast one, really. "What's it?"

"_I'm tired of seeing you act so maudlin. I was prepared to let you indulge a little, but this is too far. Your dreams are too much a part of who you are for you to just let them go so easily. That's not the stupid girl who solved the Millennium Puzzle and fought me at every turn except the one where I got to live through her. That's a self-pitying weakling, and I cannot stand by and allow you to turn into such a disgraceful creature. It's weak-willed and neglectful and completely unacceptable. No."_

Anzu raised an eyebrow. "And just what do you intend to do about it?"

"_Get your coat. We're going out."_

"Oh don't be ridicul- "

"_Get. Your. Coat." _His expression balanced on a knife-edge.

Anzu sighed like a flat tyre. "All right, all right." She might have tried insulting him, just because, but really, what was the point anymore? It was all just rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic.

* * *

"I don't see how this is supposed to help."

They'd gone into town, to a street lined with arcades and the odd pergola. Midi tunes echoed from open doorways, with crowds of kids growing denser the further in you went. Anzu felt too old to be there – which was ludicrous, considering she was about the average age, if not a little young compared to most of the customers.

Yami stalked along with his hands in his pockets. She'd just thrown on an old sweater and some jeans, but they looked sloppier on her than on him. Somehow he managed to make threadbare elbows sexy, like a poet in one of those basement beatnik coffee bars. He seemed to be searching for something, and would pause every so often to peer into a shop, before shaking his head and moving off again.

Eventually he stopped. _"Here we are."_

"Where?" The arcade didn't look different than any of the others, but Yami seemed really invested in going inside this one, so she followed him. Her progress was hampered slightly by her need to navigate crowds versus his ability to walk straight through them, but she caught up with him on the other side, the sound of pinball machines and Zombie Goo Monsters making her feel quite deaf.

She might have asked 'Why did you bring me in here?' but she immediately knew why.

The DDR machine was luminous, one platform gaping wide like a shark's mouth as it leaps from the water. A thin boy in slacks was on the other, clumsily working his way through an intermediate level of arrows and arm gestures that were less John Travolta, more gazelle with broken legs. A crowd of other boys egged him on from the sidelines.

"You're not seriously suggesting that I -?" Anzu started.

"_Get on," _Yami ordered.

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I'll make a fool of myself."

"_No you won't. You're too good a dancer to look foolish."_

"I'll _feel_ dumb. I can't even get through a simple ballet class without tripping over my own feet these days. How the hell am I supposed to survive public humiliation in a place like this?" She'd been here before, and stood holding drinks while Yuugi and Ryou played on the driving game. That must've been how Yami knew about it.

There was gum sticking to the bottom of her shoe, and the air felt greasy against her skin, smelling of hotdogs and overcooked noodles. She should just turn around and go home, she told herself. Just turn and go.

"Hey there, gorgeous," said a voice. Suddenly one of the guys had detached himself from the group and come over with his hands in his back pockets, crotch thrust forward. "You look kind of lost."

Anzu looked at him. He wasn't unattractive, though his hair needed a wash and his revolting slacks were so tight you could tell if he'd been circumcised or not. He moved languidly, muscles stretching and loosening to make him move. His gait reminded her of … something. She got a little shock when she realised it was the same way the only boys in her ballet class moved. You could always spot a dancer if you knew what you were looking for.

"I'm fine," she replied, trying not to sound too offhand, but really not interested after the way he looked her up and down like a side of meat and thrust his crotch out a smidge more. Why didn't he just carry a sign? 'Look here!' "Just going, actually."

"Aw, don't run off. You look a little down in the dumps. Care to share?"

"Not really. Excuse me."

"I got a really good shoulder for crying on."

"I'm fine, thank you. If you'll just excuse me …"

"Oh. Well, maybe a spin on the DDR will cheer you right up, eh?"

"I don't think so - "

"C'mon. It'll be fun. My pal just finished his turn so there's two spaces available."

"Really, I'm fine."

"Oh, I know that." Another up-and-down look. Anzu felt something begin to cook behind her eyes.

"Oh do you?" she said frostily. She tried to look aloof and uninterested, but she must have got it wrong, because he started acting like she'd given him to go-ahead. After a few minutes of politely and not-so-politely brushing off his advances, Anzu took several steps backwards and half turned to leave.

"Don't go," said the guy, catching her wrist.

"Please let go of me."

"I will if you come play a round of DDR with me."

"Sorry, but I don't do bribes."

"Who's bribing? I'm just asking you for a game. No harm in that. Tell you what; you play one game with me. If you win, I'll stop bothering you. If I win … well, we'll see."

"No, I don't think we will." Anzu found herself want to yank away her wrist and smack him, but he hadn't, actually, done much wrong yet – beyond not take a dozen hints and invade her personal space. Although if he didn't let go of her _soon_, she was going to have to introduce his crotch to her kneecap.

Yami was actually _smiling _at her – or, not smiling, more smirking, but still, he wasn't leaping to her defence and trying to seal the guy in a pot or banish his soul or anything. Either he'd really mellowed, or he was actually enjoying this.

And, in a weird sort of way … she was, too.

Perhaps _enjoying _wasn't quite the word, but she felt more like herself than she had in a while. Though feeling more like herself when faced with potential perverts was possibly something she should be worried about.

"Hey, Johnny," said one of the other guys. "You bothering the honey?"

Honey? Anzu's inner-feminist, already having conniptions, gritted her teeth so hard they cracked.

"Just being friendly."

The group guffawed at that. One of then actually slapped his thigh (who did that anymore besides people trying out for Oklahoma?). He moved with all the grace of your average Mack truck, a total antithesis to the guy in front of Anzu. "If he offered you a game of DDR, girl, don't take him up on it. Johnny's the reigning champion."

Johnny puffed out his chest a little. Anzu got the feeling she was supposed to be impressed.

Yami whispered in her ear – right inside it, like her conscience or something. _"I think that was a challenge."_

'Talking like that doesn't really help the whole heal-your-pain thing you were going for' she wanted to say. But she didn't, because the bunch of banana brains were staring at her and her inner-feminist was jumping up and down on her brain stem.

She turned to go.

"Hey, you're Anzu Mazaki!" someone suddenly shouted.

"Anzu Mazaki?" A kid on a pinball machine looked up and pulled his baseball cap away from his eyes. "The Duel Monsters champ? Here?"

"Wow!"

"I _heard _she lives in Domino!"

"Where? Where?"

"Over there, nimrod."

"She's shorter in person."

"Who cares about legs when you got boobs like that?"

"Shut _up_, nimrod."

"Is she here to game?"

"Duh, there's no duelling field in this joint."

"So why's she here?"

"I think she's gonna have a dance-off with Johnny Steps!"

"Really?"

"I did read that her hobbies include dancing."

"Would that be regular dancing or pole dancing?"

"_Shut up_, nimrod! She'll hear you!"

"Oh boy, this is so cool! The Queen of Games versus the King of the Dancefloor! I gotta get me a disposable camera from the front desk."

"Dude, you have _so _gotta invest in a camera-phone."

The crowd started to tighten inwards, forming a loose net around the DRR machine. Anzu backed up, disconcerted by the sea of eager and excited faces. She shot a glance at Yami, wondering if he'd hoped something like this would happen and picked this place accordingly. Though how he hoped being mauled would help her emotional well-being, she had no idea.

"So you're Anzu Mazaki, huh?" Johnny Steps murmured far too close to her ear. "I'm honoured. We don't get many celebrities around here." His voice had a slinky quality, like a cat fitting through a too-small gap. "So, are you going to give the public what they want?"

"Do you reckon they'll let me past if I don't?" She wasn't sure who she expected to answer that.

"_You can beat him," _Yami said.

_I don't want to beat him. I don't even want to be here. I want to be at home_, she thought bitterly. She had to be at work in the morning, and she'd promised her mother she'd pick up some groceries, and then there was that homework she'd been putting off, and Ryou was going to phone because he'd been the latest nominee to stay over at Mai's, and and and –

The crowd leered closer.

Something inside Anzu … didn't snap. Or crack. Or even shatter. It split open, like an actual, physical _organ_.

She looked at Johnny and was pleased to see his confidence waver at what was in her eyes. "One game. Then I'm going." _Yami can't do this. Can he? He duels. Can he dance? I've never seen him do it, but that doesn't mean anything. Seeing isn't believing._

Yami smirked sharply and gestured for her to climb the steps. Evidently he was sitting this one out. Odd, since he was usually salivating at the merest hint of a challenge, no matter what it might be.

Grimly, Anzu stepped up.

* * *

She'd meant just to dance once and then go home, no matter what the outcome. One dance to pacify people.

Then she won.

Not just won, either. She totally massacred Johnny Steps. DDR wasn't complicated when you were used to intense ballet workshops – even if you were out of practise. She'd taken tap and jazz as a child, too, which stood her in good stead when Johnny demanded a rematch and upped the ante by setting the machine on its highest level.

She wiped the floor with him.

The crowd went wild. After the second defeat the calls from Johnny's group dimmed a little, as if they knew the rapidly expanding crowd outnumbered them. People came in off the street, wondering what all the commotion was about. Management was thrilled. You could practically see the money signs in their eyes.

Anzu just carried on dancing, her feet remembering things her brain had long since forgotten. It was like moving through a dream – one of those where your body isn't your own, and you're perfectly aware of what it's doing, you just can't _stop _it. The first set was jerky as she adapted to the demands of a DDR routine. The second was easier. She started to use her arms for more than balancing. By the third set she was actually starting to enjoy herself.

She wasn't dancing for a teacher. She wasn't dancing because she'd dreamed of it, worked like hell for it for years. She wasn't even dancing to answer a challenge. It had never been about that – not really. She danced because she could, because it was _there_ in her head, just lying there like a book waiting to be picked up and read. She danced like it was the only thing left she remembered how to do, felt it, _owned _it. The rest of the world – the angst, the fretfulness, the demands of life and the desire to fix the unfixable – it all fell away and it was just her, just dancing, just _moving_.

Yami's smirk made the back of her neck tickle.

* * *

"How did you know?"

"_Know what?"_

"That dancing would make me feel better."

"_Simplicity is the essence of contentment. A mouse holding a grain of corn is infinitely happier than one trying to move an entire stalk."_

"Uh … right."

They were sitting across from each other in the corner of a fast food restaurant some distance from the arcade. It was busy and noisy enough that nobody really noticed when Anzu's lips moved and she talked to an empty chair. Yami had his feet up on the table and his arms folded across his chest. Smug satisfaction rolled off him in waves.

Anzu looked down at her milkshake. "I was all ready to give up on dance. I forgot why I loved it in the first place. Not just the ballet, but all of it. I'd narrowed it down to just this _thing _I had to do, because it'd been my dream to go to America for so long. I'd forgotten that it was supposed to be a journey, not a destination. I'd forgotten why I even _started _that dream in the first place."

"_I'd noticed."_

"Yeah. You notice a lot of stuff, don't you?"

"_I'm not sure what you mean,"_ he replied in a voice that said he knew _exactly _what she meant.

Anzu studied him for a second. "Thanks."

"_Your gratitude could be better shown by a visit to a game shop. Your deck needs re-evaluating."_

"I take it you have a specific game shop in mind?"

He didn't bother to reply.

* * *

"Yuugi, you have a visitor."

"Just a sec, Grandpa." There was a series of grunts and the sound of something crunching. Yuugi appeared from the storeroom, streaked with sweat and grime that did nothing to mute his grin when he spotted her. "Anzu, hi!"

"Hey, Yuugi."

"Yuugi, did I hear something break just now?" Sugoroku Mutou asked.

"Uh, no." Yuugi's face was about as innocent as a crime scene.

"Oh dear." Leaving them alone, his grandfather went to inspect the damage.

"Quick," Yuugi whispered. "If we hurry upstairs he won't bend my ear about that."

"Actually, Yuugi, I kind of wanted to have a look at your card stock first." Anzu pushed a lock of hair behind her ears.

Yuugi blinked. You could see the connections playing out in his head. "Oh. Is, uh – is Yami here?"

She nodded. Then, as agreed, she gave up control to the spirit and watched as Yuugi led him to the counter and the display case where they kept all their best cards. Yuugi didn't even flicker, though he had to know they'd switched. He was attuned to it by now. He brought out a tray of rare trades and started to haggle in a way that would have made his grandfather proud were he not transporting a carrier bag of broken plastic to the dumpster out back.

Yami was enjoying himself immensely. She could sense it, his diverted attention allowing bits of emotion to leak into her. He touched Yuugi's hand once, briefly, but he was reaching for a card and it was accidental – supposedly. Yuugi held out another card and they talked shop, firing game strategy at each other like bullets in a gang shootout. Yuugi was obviously pleased to have someone he could talk about Duel Monsters with, but Yami flared with a kind of pleasure Anzu didn't feel from him very often. He was always so closed off to her, even when he wasn't. They shared brainspace, but rather than make him more open it made him more private. She only knew what he chose to tell her; she didn't truly know _him_.

Yuugi and Yami fitted. Not only did they look disturbingly familiar (if only when Yami was in spirit form), their natures seemed to complement each other. It was … kind of uncanny, actually. Watching them, Anzu realised that she and Yami would never have the kind of relationship he and Yuugi might have had if Yuugi been the one to solve the Millennium Puzzle. They were black and white, while she was more grey.

Leaving them to their conversation, she closed unreal eyes and went back to the feel of just her and the music…

* * *

"He's still straight."

"_Grrnf."_

"You do realise that, right?"

"_Play the damn card."_

* * *

_To Be Continued …_

* * *

**Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs**

"_They'll wrap her in a straightjacket before you can say Hayao Miyazaki."_

-- Hayao Miyazaki being the Japanese filmmaker famous for such works as _Kiki's Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away _and, most recently, _Howl's Moving Castle._

"_I could see that he holds his heart out for everyone to see and touch…" … "That's … that's actually quite beautiful. Or, taken literally, incredibly gross."_

-- This whole exchange is developed from a scene between Angel and Buffy in the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _episode _Helpless_. I heart Joss Whedon.

_Ryou slipped past carrying plastic bags filled with lumpy things and at least one loaf of wholemeal bread._

-- Wholemeal bread is a great thing to eat if you're suffering from zinc deficiency.

_Otogi was, surprisingly, the first to break the silence. It shattered around him like sugar glass._

-- Sugar glass is what they use in movies for bottles and windows that need to smash without actually injuring someone, so it shatters easily and into far more pieces than normal glass to prevent impact damage.

_Anzu still had to go to work. She couldn't afford not to. _

-- Strange how when there's a crisis, the world doesn't just grind to a halt and wait for it to be over before starting up again.

_It was all just rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic._

-- That is, engaging in a completely useless activity in dire circumstances. Also taken from InterNutter's fic, _Don't Pity Me._

… _she caught up with him on the other side, the sound of pinball machines and Zombie Goo Monsters making her feel quite deaf._

-- _Zombie Goo Monsters _is a video game from the WB cartoon _Xiaolin Showdown_.

"_Play the damn card."_

-- A reference to the LiveJournal YGO community called (you guessed it), _Play the Damn Card, Already!_


	5. Forsaking

* * *

**5.**

* * *

After she and Yami visited the Dominion of the Beasts, and Timeas visited a great big, very public smackdown on a giant eye in the sky, Anzu went back to bed for a fitful sleep full of blonde women with pleading green eyes and ancient wars with monsters on either side. She got up the next morning, checked the mail, had a breakfast of _pain au raisin _on the way to school, sat at her desk for her lessons, surrounded herself with her normal routine, and quietly freaked out.

Everybody was talking about the monsters they'd seen, which had now all disappeared. The most common theory was some kind of mass hallucination, or another Kaiba Corp. publicity stunt. Yami commented on how people could swallow a big lie but choke on a little fib.

"What are we supposed to do?" Yuugi asked later, when he, she and Ryou were in a little huddle at the side of the schoolyard.

"Wait," she replied, shrugging. "Get ready to battle evil?"

"How do we do that?"

"_We _don't."

He eyeballed her in that way that only he could. "Don't talk like that. Please."

She braced herself. She'd been rehearsing for this. "Yuugi, I don't want either of you getting involved this time - "

"Why not?"

"Because this … this feels _bigger _than the other stuff we've faced."

"Bigger than Malik? Bigger than Noa, or Pegasus? Bigger than the God Cards?"

"Bigger than the Spirit of the Ring?" Ryou echoed, absently fingering the scars under his shirt.

"Yes."

Yuugi looked a little shocked, as though he'd been expecting her to cave and admit that no, this wasn't, really, as big as all those things – especially with Ryou sitting right there.

But he hadn't been in the Dominion. He hadn't tried to pull the sword out of the dragon's chest, failed, and nearly wrenched his shoulder trying again, even with Yami's help. He hadn't talked to Black Magician Girl – hadn't seen the anguished look on her face as she explained what was going on. She'd had such an open, honest face. It was impossible not to believe her when she said how grim things were for her and her … was people really a good word to use in that context? Some of the creatures she and Yami had seen didn't even have opposable thumbs.

"This is only going to get worse," Anzu said grimly.

"How do you know? You completely flattened that guy who stole the God Cards. And remember how you blew that creature away last night. How bad can anything else be if you cleared the city of monsters just like that?" Yuugi snapped his fingers.

"Because that was just the floorshow. Yami and I didn't get the God Cards _back_, did we? Whoever called up that … thing in the sky has them now. He and I will be fighting against the power of the God Cards, _and_ whatever magick those thieves have already got on their side."

"You have Timeas," Ryou offered.

"Yeah," she admitted. "I do have him."

When lunch was over and Ryou dashed to the bathroom before afternoon classes started, Yuugi pulled Anzu to one side and hissed, "I don't think it's a good idea, you trying to shut us out on this one."

"Don't you think that's my decision?"

"Actually, no." He fixed her with those big eyes of his and said bluntly, "I had a dream last night."

"Excuse me?"

"After the thing in town, when I went home to bed. I didn't think I'd sleep at _all_, but I was out like a light the moment I hit the pillow. AndI dreamed that … look, this is going to sound corny, but after what you said before about the sword and Black Magician Girl, it came back to me. I was in this, like, this big ballroom, and it was really cold. I think the walls might have been made of ice. It kind of sparkled, all pretty, like when we had that thick frost last December. Someone was asking me if I was 'chosen', over and over, but I couldn't see them, so I asked, chosen for what?"

Anzu didn't like that sound of this.

"I didn't get an answer, just more of the same question. It was a lady asking it, I remember that, and when I said I had no idea what she was talking about, she stopped and said – and this is the corny bit – she said, 'Are you pure of heart?'"

Anzu liked the sound of this less and less.

"I mean, what kind of question is that? It's like asking someone if they could choose between the lives of two people they love. You can't answer that, not realistically. Not honestly. So I said I didn't know." He bit his lip.

"You remember your dream very clearly," Anzu said, watching for Ryou's return. She sounded vaguely accusing.

"I know. It's weird, I usually forget every one as soon as I wake up. This one was different, though. It was … it seemed really real while it was going on, but I _knew _it was a dream, y'know? Like, I was following this voice around and talking to it, but at the same time I was thinking 'I'm in a dream. This is dumb. I'm acting like this is real when it's just a figment of my imagination'. But that's not the important part. The _important _part is that when I answered that last question, the voice told me I'd -" He stopped.

"What? What did it say, Yuugi?"

"'You have twisted fate, and must reap the consequences. The beaver's dam can change the flow of a river, and what is time but a river? What is a dam but sticks and mud? What are sticks and mud but tiny things? But the preservation of light against the dark is paramount. Preserve the preserver, one who is pure of heart. Protect the protector, little champion who would change the course of fate.'" Yuugi raised his eyes to Anzu's. "That's what it said. Word for word."

She swallowed, hard. "And you think that means you're supposed to protect _me_?"

"Well … yeah." He dropped his eyes and scuffed his feet. "It's always been you looking after me, ever since we were kids. This time, I thought it might be my turn."

The silence that followed was heavy and defeaning.

The door to the Boys' Bathroom banged. Ryou walked towards them, waving, and Anzu impulsively reached out to ruffle Yuugi's hair. "Doofus," she murmured. "It was probably just something you ate."

Yuugi caught her wrist, faster than she might've expected. "Anzu, don't. Just … don't." He looked serious and resolute, bangs falling into his eyes and throat bobbing.

"We've got to get to class," she replied, pulling away.

* * *

Later, when she was dressing for bed, she sat on the floor in just her socks and underwear and fought back a wave of tears.

"_What is it?" _Yami wanted to know.

"Shit," she mumbled, scrubbing at her eyes. "Yami, I'm seventeen years old. I get unbearable period pains and I'm flunking math. I can't save the world."

His expression was still diamond hard, but his eyes softened. _"Stupid girl."_

"Oh thanks. Thanks a lot."

"_I **meant **that you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."_

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." But the scant words of comfort meant more than she acknowledged.

* * *

Rebecca had grown up a lot since they saw her last. She no longer wore her childishness like a badge, but sported the kind of overemphasised maturity that said, super-genius or not, she was still just a kid inside.

Anzu met her warmly, prepared to forget old feuds and past crimes because Rebecca really was a little girl in an adult's world – even more so than those who had been affected by magick. That dimmed, however, when Rebecca latched onto Yuugi's arm and pressed herself against him in a way kids her age weren't even supposed to _know_ about yet.

"_But you said you weren't attracted to him," _Yami pointed out while she was seething on the plane.

"That doesn't mean I want to see some … some_ fangirl _draping herself across him," she hissed back so as not to wake the others. Otogi wore a set of earphones playing hard rock music straight into his brain, but the jetlag had caught up with Ryou and Yuugi and they were both fast asleep.

A face appeared over the seat in front. Mai's presence on this trip had not been a foreseeable one. It had taken Anzu quite by surprise when she opened her front door to find her standing there, bag in hand and brittle smile in place, wearing one of the new outfits they'd bought on a shopping trip together. Jeans suited her more than either of them had thought they would after all the micro skirts, though Mai had put her foot down when Anzu tried to dress her in floaty gypsy blouses and loose tops.

Mai's recovery, such as it was, wasn't – and hadn't been – a smooth path. She still had good days and bad days – days when she functioned like any normal woman, and days when she locked herself away, screaming obscenities at anyone who tried to go near her. Anzu and the others were patient, though Otogi once likened her to an addict being forced off a drug. It seemed true enough when you were nursing a bruised ego after some particularly incisive verbal abuse; except that Mai's only drug was fear with an edge of depression and paranoia. You couldn't just remove those from the equation like a physical object – not if they expected her to recover _properly_. She had to learn to overcome them, and that was the hardest battle any of them had ever undertaken.

Apparently Mai had overheard Otogi on his cell phone when he chartered his private jet for them. Overtaken by an urge not to be left behind, she'd let him go home with his excuses, then packed a few necessities and hastened on over to Anzu's famous address before she had chance to depart. She wouldn't be dissuaded from her mission, either.

"You're fighting evil again, aren't you?"

"Well … probably, yeah."

"Then there's _definitely _no way you're leaving me behind."

"But Mai - "

"Put it this way, Anzu; problems or not, I'm still one of the strongest duellists you know. These guys who stole the God Cards, they duel – using magick, no less. It stands to reason you're going to end up duelling them. It makes sense to have me on side. I'm not going to go all to pieces. Really. You guys have all worked too hard for me to slip backwards like that, and besides, I keep telling you; I'm _not_ some wimpy princess who needs rescuing from her big dark tower. Give me some credit."

"I still don't think it's a very sensible idea for you to come - "

"Horses and saddles, Anzu. Beside, I have a … a _feeling _I need to be with you guys for this. Like I'm supposed to do something important. Haven't you ever had those?"

"Could it be just gas? My special feelings are usually gas."

But Mai wouldn't be dissuaded. She was more forceful than Anzu could remember since Battle City, and eventually, owing to time, pressure, and a small portion of her subconscious saying this might, actually, be beneficial for Mai's mental health, she'd given in and fielded the surprise and concern from the others when she turned up at the airfield with Mai in tow.

Now Mai peered at Anzu with eyes so big as to be positively luminous. "You should get some shut-eye. We'll be landing in a few hours, and the jetlag is going to be hellish enough as it is. Trust me, I've done this time-change before."

"I can't sleep."

"Try. Or I'll knock you out." Mai gave a razor-sharp smile, like she was just now remembering how enjoyable it was to say things like that and be impulsive like this, and disappeared again.

Yami smirked. _"I couldn't have put it better myself."_

* * *

Once, when they were discussing where Yami came from, Otogi said how some cultures believed everyone had their very own spirit guardian from birth. Anzu had decided that whatever one was assigned to her wasn't some benign creature with wings and sandals, or the type who showered gold coins on his charges for a bit of nookie, or even some animal-headed thing who wreaked vengeance on her enemies. No, hers was more like a wannabe comedian; with her life as the clip show used to entertain the other guardians on a Saturday night.

"See how Anzu thinks she's done so well at her maths exam? Fifth in the entire year! Little does she know, that's a typo we carefully slipped in there as a _hilarious _red herring. And how about those ballet pumps, huh? It's considered bad luck unless a dancer sews on her own ribbons, y'know. So much time spent sewing them on, so little for us to tinker with them. Oh! One snapped. She's down, folks! On the face, too. Right in front of her new classmates! Ooh, that's got to smart."

Sniggers from all assembled.

"As an extra bonus, we threw in one of our verbal grenades to comment about the good cushioning of her fun-bags. You can't buy _that_ colour red in any shops."

She could deal with a little embarrassment as much as the next girl. And she had to admit, talking about it with the others later made it seem funnier. Mai even cracked a few smiles over her hot chocolate. These were rare during the early days of her convalescence. They were like short bursts of sunlight through a cloudbank, and to get at them Anzu was willing to fall on her butt a thousand times. Ballet classes weren't the huge deal they used to be. Neither was school, really – much to Mrs. Mazaki's chagrin. Dance was still important, and she still planned on going to New York while she was young enough to appreciate it, but it didn't rule her life to such an extent as it once had.

Things got a little hairy when it came to the apocalypse, however.

She could imagine her guardian rubbing ethereal hands. "Now, watch how Anzu enjoys being able to talk openly to the spirit of her Millennium Puzzle because her friends already know about him. See how they all think he's such a great guy? A little emotionally constipated, maybe, and _boy howdy_, can he wax lyrical on the benefits of friendship when he's got a card in his hand. Our little leading lady has got some competition there, methinks. But watch out, chickadee! Your knight in duelling armour is about to shapeshift into a complete dickweed! Mind for those biker buds, now. Ouch, but you could cut yourself on those bad boys."

Yeah, a real laugh riot.

Why oh why had she left the Millennium Tauk at home? At least if she'd had it she could've blamed herself for not checking out what the future held and seeing this coming.

She wasn't supposed to feel things when she was in spirit form, but the backs of Yami's knees (her knees!) were disturbingly solid. She kicked hard, and a little part of her took pleasure in the look of shock on his face as he buckled and fell over. Shock was good. It was better than the ruthless determination he'd been wearing since he played that damn card.

He looked up into her face. It was weird standing over him. He looked small and kind of young this way. "What are you doing?"

"You can be a complete asshole sometimes," she said sternly. All around them bright green energy flowed upwards into a funnel of dark cloud. She suspected it operated in the same manner as lightning, targeting the tallest thing it could find. It was already tugging at her insides – and hey, was she supposed to be able to feel this sort of thing when she wasn't in control of her body? Huh. Maybe they were both flesh now, in which case this was a double irony. Face to flesh-and-blood-face for the first time. Or maybe they were both spirits, and her body was offstage somewhere waiting for whoever came back to claim it.

It only required one soul. Just one. That was all. One itty bitty soul.

_Stupid stupid stupid stupid –_

She sucked in a breath that tasted of citrus and saltwater. "But right now? The world needs you more than it needs me."

Friendship and caring about someone – even if you didn't like admitting to it – was all about sacrifice. If anything, she'd learned that much since she met him.

Realisation dawned in Yami's eyes, even as the grip of the Oricalcos that had accentuated his darker impulses and impeded the link between their minds began to loosen. "No! Stupid girl, you can't – _I _lost the duel -"

"Too late. We're having a special offer on second chances. Today only." She was a floating torso. Oh god. A floating _torso._ Too late to back out now – or so she told herself. Her next words came out through gritted teeth. "But if you screw this up – if you give in again, I'll be waiting in the afterlife to … to do something really unspeakable to you!"

She sounded a lot braver than she felt. Maybe it was a survival instinct – a coping mechanism. Her lungs were dissolving and she was making smart remarks.

Yami reached for her, presumably to drag her back, which was dumb because she was already mostly faded, probably intangible with it, and he _was _a better candidate to save the world. He'd wielded big magicks once upon a time, right? Saved ancient Egypt from some terrible fate, Isis said. If he could just sit on his ego long enough to do it again, then maybe …

It was more likely he could get her soul back than she could retrieve his. He was the strong one, the spirit who'd survived thousands of years of imprisonment in an unmade Puzzle. She was just a schoolgirl from a little-known town who had a best friend for him to crush on and got glory from his achievements with her duel deck.

No glory this time. Just him, reaching and yelling, and her not even _trying _to get away, and –

Time stopped. Anzu felt the universe fall away, the little bit of green-tinged rock peeling back like orange rind, leaving behind an unpleasantly cold, rushing darkness. There were voices, cut short – random syllables of sound – and the sensation that she was as thin and insubstantial as a shadow being cast on stone made hot by a baking midday sun.

_Please don't screw up please please come rescue me please don't leave me here in the dark…_

Fade to black.

Very black.

* * *

She didn't know where she was; apart from the fact it was a barren wilderness. She thought that should probably sound more profound, but it just sounded like what it was – lost and a little pathetic.

It was impossible to look away from Yami. Anzu understood black holes now, because she was staring into what he'd done to her eyes. How had anyone ever mistaken those eyes for hers? They sucked you in and held you, right there, on the event horizon.

Yuugi was up on the mountainside, being held back by some old dude she thought she maybe ought to recognise. There was some animal and a little girl with them. She was pretty – reminded Anzu of Rebecca a little. Seemed older than she looked.

Yuugi was screaming something, but she couldn't concentrate on him, couldn't focus on anything but Yami-wearing-her-skin. Her thoughts were fuzzy, melted, all smooshed together like her mom's leftovers-casserole, but shot through them was the urge to fight him. No, not just fight him – humiliate and massacre him the way she'd massacred Johnny Steps.

She hadn't picked up this much duelling knowledge in their time together, had she? Surely not. Grandpa Mutou had given her some lessons when she thought she ought to have some way of explaining her new expertise, but she was nowhere near this level. No, it was Yami who was the glory-hog. He was the Master of Games. She was just the bus he used to get around in.

Well, not anymore.

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Anzu," he said, sounding pathetic even to her ears.

Anzu scowled. Pathetic. It was a word that just sounded _wrong_ in context with Yami. She couldn't forgive him for deteriorating into a lesser person than the one she had come to respect and care for – yes, care for! She could admit it now, because she didn't anymore. Not anymore. She. Didn't. _Care_.

"You're pathetic," she snapped. Her mouth felt full of acid, but she couldn't stop herself. "You can't even face up to what you've done to me without whining."

"I'm sorry!" he said. "I'm sorry, but please, don't make me do this! I don't want to hurt you!"

"Could've fooled me. You've got what you wanted now. A brand new body to run around in. No more having to share it with anyone. How does it feel, Nameless Pharaoh? Admit it – you played the Oricalcos because you wanted me out of there! You knew I'm just dumb enough to take your place, so you used me. You sacrificed me to get what you wanted. _Admit it!_"

"That's not true!"

"And you've even got a way around Yuugi's sexuality now. Convenient, isn't it? Seems like everything worked out quite nicely for you."

"Anzu, please stop this duel. I can't restore your soul if you force me to hurt you here."

"Then I guess the choice is up to you, isn't it?"

She didn't smile as she drew her next card.

She didn't smile as Yami collapsed to his knees in a crisis of faith, nor when his monster's attack wiped out her life points.

She did smile, however, when the fog in her mind cleared away and she realised what was going on – but by that time it was a little incidental.

"Y-Yami," she stuttered as he scooped her into his arms. Had he done this before? Pegasus's laughter rang in her ears. Yami's hands were wide and strong and _familiar_, even though they couldn't be. "I guess you passed."

"Stupid girl. You – passed what?"

That sounded so very, very bad.

Another smile. She felt weak and funny, like she'd been caught by the Oricalcos all over again. She also felt ashamed of some of the things she'd said and thought, because there were grains of truth to them, and that was enough to send the embarrassment of real honesty – honesty without thought for consequences or the feelings of others – zinging through her veins.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean it…"

Yami tried to touch her hand, but it wasn't there anymore. His (her!) eyes widened. "No! Not again!"

"Sorry. Gotta go back now. The magick of this place isn't … strong enough to keep me tethered." She closed her eyes. "So … so tired …"

"Don't you dare! Don't you _dare_! Anzu, I need you to come back. I … when I fight without you there to restrain me … People are being _hurt_. You once said you would keep me from becoming evil. You said would keep me in check. Stay and fulfil your duty, damn it!"

Duty called. Which was all very well, except that whenever she tried to call Duty back, all she ever got was its answering machine.

Yami's voice dropped, as though he didn't want anyone to hear what he was saying – totally ridiculous, since the only people around were hundreds of feet away and couldn't hear them _anyway_. "I can't do this without you. I can't save the world on my own."

" … Arrogant … you're not on your own …" Forming words was like trying to carve an intricate statuette out of cottage cheese with a chisel made of liquorice.

"Don't go – fight it!"

"Fighting. Always fighting. Sometimes you _can't _…"

"I don't believe that," he snarled. "You can always fight. You can always _win_ if you try."

"Hypocrite. Can't stay … Guess you gotta practise what you … preach … keep yourself in check now …" She looked up at him. Shifting her eyelids felt like moving Tokyo Tower with just a fingertip.

His eyes were pleading. Someone pathetic didn't work as a description anymore. "I can't," he whispered, bitterness evident in his tone. "That's what caused this mess in the first place."

"Can so. You're … you're not … evil. You're just not very good at … controlling yourself …"

The pull was insistent. Dartz's magick and the power of the Oricalcos reasserted themselves as whatever held her here, whatever had clouded her mind and steered her into the duel with Yami, waned.

Anzu struggled to streamline her thoughts and sound coherent once more. "I – nngh – I haven't much time, but you _can _do this. Believe in yourself, you n-numbskull. The others are there to help you if you need it. You're … their friend, Yami – in your own right. You earned that friendship, so … let them help … you."

"Anzu -"

"Everything will be okay. Trust me."

"I-"

Whatever he was about to say was lost, as she felt herself sucked back down the cold tunnel and into the dark.

* * *

Of course Yuugi was the first one to hug her. A running hug, of the sort other people might call a tackle, were it not for the fact that Yuugi's size meant he couldn't tackle a squashed apricot. Ryou had been a bit of a surprise. He'd never been very tactile. Nor had Otogi with her, for that matter; and as for Mai –

"Okay … oxygen becoming an issue."

Anzu's friends undid their complicated knot of hugs amidst words like "Really is you," "Missed you so much," and "Welcome back." Otogi even pecked her on the cheek. Even though this was no strange occurrence, and she'd learned not to take it seriously, it still made her blush. The sense of _appreciation_ was almost overpowering.

"I wasn't away _that_ long," she muttered, as Yuugi held her hand for maybe one second too long.

It was odd being back in her own body. She'd been floating in that bubble of nothingness just long enough that having fingers, toes and squidgy bits felt very peculiar. She flexed her hands a little, just because she could; felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck and – there. There he was.

Yami was right behind her left shoulder, not touching her, but the tiny spaces between the tightly-knit plates of his personality was were _oozing_ approval at her return and – relief?

"If you're done with your displays of needless emotion, can we please leave now?" Kaiba's voice whipcracked across the chamber, brazenly ignoring the hand he had resting on Mokuba's shoulder.

Mokuba's expression said he might have liked to run over and hug Anzu too, the way he had when she first met him in Duellist Kingdom and let him eat with them, share their provisions and sleep curled next to her against the cold of the night. Yet his brother's touch held him fast – not because Kaiba gripped him tight, or used any kind of force, but because that was the way they always were.

Anzu looked up, the moment broken. "Kaiba, I didn't know you cared."

"I don't. You were incidental."

"Thanks. Can I get that in writing to show any reporters who see us together?"

She'd thought Yami had a blank look, but he was positively wreathed in smiles compared to Kaiba when Kaiba wanted to look blank. "You know, with a sense of humour like yours, I'm surprised you haven't chosen a career in light entertainment instead of duelling. There are all sorts of things you could do – change fuses, hold things for people, make tea - "

"Seto!" Mokuba hissed.

There was a body on the floor. Anzu recognised the man named Valon, one of the bikers who had taken a shine to Mai but been shot down. She vaguely recalled his soul floating in one of the other bubbles in that ... place – wherever it was she'd been sent after the duel in the desert with Yami.

"Why wasn't his soul returned too?" she asked, pointing to him. Ugh, the guy gave her the creeps – though there was perhaps something babyish about his face when he wasn't smirking.

She _felt _Yami frown. _"A good question."_

A noise like thunder filled the chamber. Dust began to waft out of the darker corners in the ceiling, as the breeze blowing through the huge space sharpened. Tiny pebbles on the floor jittered like peas on a drum skin.

"I don't like this," said Mokuba. "We should get out of here while we still can."

"And take him with us?" Mai moved Valon's elbow with the toe of one shoe.

"Yes," Yuugi said without hesitation. "He helped us a lot against Dartz."

Really? Anzu made a note to ask about that when there was time. Maybe Valon wasn't such a jerk after all.

"Only because he thought he could get it together with me," Mai shot back. "Ever heard that phrase about means, ends and justifying?"

To Anzu's surprise and chagrin, Yuugi and Mai both looked to her for the yea or nay. _Her_. Probably a throwback to Yami being in charge while she was out – although when she last saw him he hadn't exactly been playing with a full hand, but the implications of the alternative were rather more than she wanted to consider with the more immediate concern of bad roofing going on.

"Sure. Whatever," she said, waving a hand.

It was Otogi who noticed the other part of the major equation. "Hey, where's that Dartz guy?"

Anzu spun around, only slightly unsteady on her feet. She'd been trapped outside her body for several days, but she'd been trapped _inside _it for over sixteen years, and most of those had included rigorous physical training for dance. Her muscles felt only a little loose – obviously Yami hadn't been doing her stretches in the mornings and evenings to keep her toned. But then, he'd had other things on his mind, hadn't he? Like Dartz. Speaking of whom … the other side of the duelling field was empty.

A tremor ran through the chamber. Chunks of masonry broke off and crashed to the ground, narrowly missing the prone Valon until Otogi scooped him into an awkward fireman's lift.

"Man, this guy needs to either lose a few pounds, or switch to aluminium studs."

"Quickly," Kaiba snapped, making for where Anzu assumed was the way out. She hadn't exactly come in by conventional means, so she had no real idea of where she was – something she now realised as they scuttled after him and arrived at the top of a staircase that led down to a raging ocean.

"Whoa."

A gargantuan shadow rose above them.

Mai shielded her eyes. There was a Legendary Dragon card clasped between the fingers of her other hand. It glowed ominously. "Oh for pity's sake, what _now_?"

* * *

The room was lined with mirrors on all sides, like a dance studio; with a barre and a piano and that potted aspidistra Miss Odori insisted sit in the corner.

But wait. Hadn't she stopped going to Miss Odori's when she was eleven?

The air was redolent of rosemary and perfume – Fiji, the one Mrs. Mazaki wore for special occasions. Apart from the ticking of a metronome, everything was silent.

Feeling as though she should be somewhere else, Anzu walked across the room in search of the metronome. It wasn't on the piano where it usually sat, nor was it on the desk. And where had the desk come from, anyway? That wasn't usual. It had pictures on it; photographs of people and places. One showed the famous Statue of Liberty, tall and green and imposing. The glass covering that one was covered in a spider web of cracks. Another was of a group of people, but it was all blurry so she couldn't properly see their faces. Yet another showed a snake, poised to strike right at the camera, and yet _another _showed a blonde woman with the kind of green eyes a slushy romance novel might call 'bottomless'. Anzu picked the pictures up and put them down, and then turned around, certain something wasn't right.

"Something isn't right here," she said aloud, as though that might inspire the wrongness to come out of hiding.

Her voice echoed. Her reflection bounced backwards and forwards between the mirrors an infinite number of times, the image getting smaller and vaguer at each stage. When she raised her hand, so did a million other Anzus. When she waved, they all waved back.

"Hello?" she called, looking for a door or window. "Can anyone hear me? Is anyone there?"

One of the farthest images winked out of existence.

Anzu blinked, not sure she'd just seen that.

"Hello?" she said again.

Another, nearer reflection vanished.

"No, don't go!"

An even nearer one also vanished.

"Don't leave me all alone!"

One by one, the reflections disappeared, until only the closest one remained. Anzu ran up and touched the mirror, leaving greasy fingerprints on the glass. The last reflection copied her action, but her fingers left no marks and her breath left no condensation when she got too close. All Anzu could feel was the cold, hard surface. It said that she was being ridiculous – she was alone no matter how many reflections there were.

"You're not real," she said sadly. "Stupid. Of course you're not real. You're just me in a mirror." She bowed her head, engulfed by a sudden irrefutable loneliness. "Where am I? Where is everyone?"

"_You can have it, if you like."_

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"_He won't mind. Honest."_

"Yuugi?" She looked around. The voice was very faint, but she would've known it anywhere.

"_It's mine to do with what I want, and I want to give it to you."_

"Where are you?"

_"I can't believe you were so reckless. You could have been killed! Or worse!"_

"Reckless? Yuugi, what's going on? Where are you? Come to that, where am _I_?"

"_You are … not quite what I expected, Miss Mazaki." _This voice was less familiar, but she recognised it all the same.

"Isis Ishtar?" she said, more to herself than anyone else. "Please, what's going on?"

"_No playmate?" _a different voice buzzed. _"Too bad, so sad. And me with no time to waste."_

Wait a second, that was what the Spirit of the Ring said when he cornered her on Kaiba's blimp …

And all at once Anzu knew that the speakers weren't there at all. These were things she'd heard before – echoes, snippets of conversations long past. How she was hearing them, she didn't know, but she was still as alone as before. She just had a soundtrack to her loneliness now.

So … where were the _real_ speakers? Where were Yuugi, Ryou and Isis now? Had something happened to them? A horrible thought then occurred to her: Was she dead? They said your entire life flashed before your eyes when you died. Maybe they were only half right. They also said hell was other people. If that was the case, then heaven sucked.

"_Well, you have to admit, you aren't very … girly."_

She leaned against the mirror and slowly slid down it, covering her face with her hands. She had the feeling she'd been involved in a great battle recently. How it had gone, she couldn't remember. All she knew was that it had been important, and now … now here she was. Lost and alone. Worried about her friends, her family, herself – just plain worried, really.

"_Anzu, your wardrobe has altered since you first met me. If I recall, there were no chains or metal spikes involved before."_

Stupid Otogi. If she really was dead, she'd miss him and his stupid smart remarks.

_"You really should do something about those split ends. A good conditioner, maybe…"_

Mai didn't need looking after. Except when she did. Anzu wondered whether Mai would accept that her going away wasn't intentional – that she hadn't _meant _to abandon her friends. Anzu also hoped this was true.

"_You know, drawing is a lot like solving puzzles."_

Yuugi …

"_You put it together piece by piece, and with the really good stuff you're never quite sure what you're going to end up with until it's done."_

Please don't be dead – please don't let her have failed in her self-appointed task of protecting him.

"_Please don't say you're sorry."_

_"Can't a trio of devastatingly handsome men drop in unannounced without being interrogated?" _

_"I … I had a sister, once." _

_"I'm not a charity case. I don't need 'saving', and I don't need you to baby me."_

"_I challenge you to make an outfit from pink and still look as good as you do now."_

"_This stone tablet shows the Pharaoh and his opponent locked in battle. The cartouche showing their names has been scratched out, as you can see. We don't know how, or by whom."_

"_ZNN's top entertainment story tonight? The deepening relationship of billionaire CEO Seto Kaiba and gaming genius Anzu Mazaki." _

"_I still miss her. Sometimes I talk to her – write her letters. My Dad always hated that."_

"_I've given you the power of the Oricalcos. It's up to you how you use it."_

"_My name? I … I don't have one."_

"_You have twisted fate, and must reap the consequences."_

"_Your mother and I … we're filing for divorce."_

"_The beaver's dam can change the flow of a river, and what is time but a river? What is a dam but sticks and mud? What are sticks and mud but tiny things?"_

"_And I would like to repeat that there is no romantic connection between myself and Anzu Mazaki."_

"_Yami? Not the name I might've chosen, but … rather fitting. Yes, you may call me that for the time being."_

"_But the preservation of light against the dark is paramount."_

"_Ever heard that phrase about means, ends and justifying?"_

"_Preserve the preserver, one who is pure of heart."_

"_Well, there's the friendship thing, and then there's the friendship thing. What those three got up to? So very **thing**."_

"_Protect the protector, little champion who would change the course of fate."_

"_You're like the poster child for all that touchy feely team spirit crap."_

The voices never rose in volume, but they clustered together, words overlapping and blending like whispers rushing through ranks of schoolchildren before the principal called for quiet. Anzu listened to them, morbidly curious as to why these were the things she could hear, but the sounds only underlined how isolated she felt – so cut off from people and answers to her questions.

"_You're not alone," _one of the memory-voices said sharply. And then softer, added, _"I'm here."_

"Anzu?"

Anzu jerked her head up. _That _had sounded far too close. There was no fuzziness to it, as with the older memory-voices. It was sharp and clear, and when it came again she turned around.

"Anzu?"

Her reflection stared back at her.

And then it spoke.

"Anzu, you aren't alone."

It looked exactly like her, except … a little different. The hair was maybe a shade longer, the mouth slightly crooked. An upside-down pyramid hung around from the neck, and Anzu's hands immediately went to her belt to feel the familiar contours of the Millennium Puzzle. The reflection watched and shook her head in a wry manner. Anzu felt like she ought to understand the significance of this, but she didn't.

"You _aren't _alone."

Behind the reflection rose a tremendous and sinuous bulk.

"Look out!" Anzu yelped, pointing and nearly breaking her finger as it hit the glass.

Her reflection turned, but the jaws of the Mirror Leviathan shot downwards closed around her, swallowing her whole. There was no blood, no gore; one moment she was there, the next she wasn't, and all Anzu could see was leathery grey skin and eyes as big as her head, but as hard and pitiless as uncut rubies.

"No!" she shrieked, as the creature reared back and vanished like all her other reflections had. She was suddenly possessed of the idea that the reflection-her could've told her what was going on, and filled with anger that she was to be ripped away so soon and so viciously. "Come back! Bring her back!"

Only echo.

All around her were mirrors. And she cast nothing in any of them.

Now she knew how vampires felt.

The memory-voices were all silent. Even the sound of the metronome was gone. The squeak of Anzu's shoes against the floor was loud and inexorable. She pressed her hands against the glass, as though looking for a way through; then she whirled around, thinking there might be another Leviathan waiting to take her as well.

There wasn't.

There was just a room like a dance studio, with a barre and a piano, a potted aspidistra and a desk with framed photographs on it.

"I want to go home," she murmured, saturated with a need for one of her mother's special it'll-all-be-okay hugs, like she used to get when her father first left.

"Anzu …"

The voice came from above. She looked up, to the mirrored ceiling and a reflection that had been forgotten in the cull. This one wore ballet pumps and a leotard that clamped her chest a bit flatter, and smiled down at her.

"Wha-?" Anzu mumbled. "What's going on here? Where am I? Who're you?"

The reflection said nothing, but turned and walked, upside-down, across her mirror, clambering out of it and into another when she reached the edge. From there she dangled by her hands, as though hanging from a parallel bar, and then dropped the six feet to the mirrored floor with ease. Her smile never wavered, nor did she appear worried by the loss of the mirror's previous inhabitant. Instead she threw her arms up in a flourish, as though coming to the end of a pirouette.

"Ta-daa."

"Look, you." Anzu felt herself bristling. "I want some answers."

"Those I can do."

"Am I dead?"

The reflection was shocked. "Of course not."

"Oh. Right. So then … where am I?"

"Silly. You're dreaming."

"I'm …" That … actually made a lot of sense. Real sense _and _dream sense, which were quite different things. "I don't remember falling asleep."

"Probably because you were knocked out. Don't worry, it'll all come out in the wash."

Knocked unconscious? Finally a few meagre details trickled back to her. "We … won? Against Dartz?"

"Something like that." Her reflection smiled. It was a very infectious smile – like measles.

Anzu ran a hand through her hair. "This is weird. Usually my dreams involve chases and big purple monsters."

"Consider this your first big dose of symbolism then. Don't worry. You'll get used to it. I did."

The tone of these last two words caused Anzu to narrow her eyes at her reflection. "You don't _sound _like something cooked up by my subconscious. Who are you?"

"Who do you want me to be?"

"I mean it. Who _are _you? And why are you invading my dreams?"

The reflection cocked her head to one side, but said nothing.

"Answer me - " Angry and tired of not understanding, Anzu thumped a loose fist against the glass – and then stepped back in alarm.

The features of her reflection melted, rearranging themselves into another, different face. Spikes flared up around her forehead, while the back of her hair rose and prickled in direct proportion to her legs and chest shrinking. Her waist thickened like flesh popping from an undone corset, and her leotard became a baggy shirt and pants.

"Y-Yuugi?"

Yuugi looked up at her with the eyes of a sweet old hound gazing up at the muzzle brake of the vet's humane killer. "Who do you want me to be?"

"What?"

His face morphed like a Picasso painting. Soft waves of hair flowed down his back, and his eyes darkened without getting _dark_. "Who do you want me to be?" Ryou asked quietly.

"Stop it."

The light hair fell away, replaced by a tangled mess of spikes and tufts working their way free of a headband. Otogi's eyes sparkled as he asked, "Who do you want me to be?"

"I said stop it!"

"Who do you want me to be?" Mai demanded, voice sharp as the heels of her boots. She tossed her hair and fixed Anzu with an imperious eye that was already turning the colour of cornflowers caught up in an unplanned ice age.

"Who do you want me to be?" Kaiba growled.

"Who do you want me to be?" asked Mokuba.

"Who do you want me to be?" Valon smirked.

"Who do you want me to be?" Dartz's oddly coloured eyes held her, even as they changed.

"Who do you want me to be?" enquired Miss Odori, tapping the cane she'd never carried, but which Anzu had always thought would've looked _right_ in her hands.

Anzu clapped her hands over her ears. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! You're not real! You're not them!"

"Who do you want me to be?" asked Rebecca, Grandpa Mutou, Raphael, Keith and the bitchy girls from school. "Who do you want me to be?" repeated Pegasus, Amelda, Malik, Isis and Rishid Ishtar.

Bottomless green eyes held hers, as hands twisted around a staff in a deniably nervous habit. "Who do you want me to be?" Black Magician Girl invited in the same voice she'd used the night the first dragon was awakened and drawn into battle against the Leviathan.

Anzu looked away, unable to meet those eyes.

"Who do you want me to be?" asked her own voice. Back to the beginning now – the reflection from the ceiling. "Who do you want me to be?" she asked again.

"Nobody!" Anzu exploded. "I don't want you to be anybody! I just want to wake up, in my own body, and forget this whole freaky dream."

"You can't." Her reflection seemed sadder than before, as though this answer had disappointed her in some way.

"Why can't I? That's what happens with dreams. You wake up, go back to your life, and forget all about them. And I've _definitely _had enough of this one."

"You can't go back. Not until you get it."

"Get what? I just spent … I don't know _how_ long trapped in a world where souls go once they're ripped from their bodies. And no sooner do I get back from there, I find I have to go into battle against some megalomaniac riding around on a frikkin' _lizard_ the size of my whole _hometown_. I've survived things I didn't even know existed, things I didn't think _could _exist, and things I didn't ever want to _know _exist. And now? I don't even get a break from the weirdness when I'm unconscious!"

"Anzu …" The reflection suddenly looked anxious. She glanced over her shoulder. "You know, I never could've acted like this before … before … well, the obvious." She gestured at herself.

"Obvious to you, maybe."

Anxiety morphed into fear. Her reflection was _frightened_. She looked over her shoulder again. "I'm not made of stone," she whispered.

"What's going on?" Anzu demanded. "Or is this just more of that general nuttiness that goes on in dreams?" Lucid dreaming was where you knew you were in a dream, right? That must be what was going on here. She was in the middle of a lucid dream. It made her wish she was fully immersed in this one, just so she could get through it without _realising _how freaky and _wrong_ it was.

"I can't …" Her reflection – and was it really accurate to keep calling her that? – faltered and nibbled her lip in the exact same nervous habit Anzu had developed in fifth grade. She'd given it up by sixth, though it sometimes resurfaced when she was particularly stressed. She'd made her lower lip raw on the boat to Duellist Kingdom, and the first night she stayed over at Mai's. "I can't …"

"Can't what? Explain? Get me out of here?"

"I CAN'T BE WHO YOU WANT ME TO BE!" The shout was unexpected, full of venom and … panic? Her eyes were wide and her fists clenched. "I _can't _… "

The inflection was right, but the voice was all wrong. Anzu narrowed her eyes, searching her reflection's face for some sign of difference beyond the obvious.

"Anzu … help …"

"Me? Help you?"

"When did _you_ start needing a reason to help people? Stupid girl."

Click.

Anzu's scalp prickled. "How?"

"I can't be who you want me to be."

Slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop, she raised both hands, palms facing forward like in the universal gesture for 'calm down'. She pressed them against the glass. It was still solid, still cold, and still very glassy.

All at once she felt very foolish.

_What am I doing? This is like a cheesy scene in a movie. Use the Force, young Mazaki. _

What was she expecting to happen? The mirror to shatter? Her consciousness to be propelled back into her head? The world to end? She honestly didn't know.

Her reflection looked down at the hands. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to be symbolic."

"… Oh." Equally slowly, she raised her own hands and pressed them against the other side of the glass.

Anzu gave out a little gasp when she felt her other self's palms – the rough warmth of calloused skin, the faint pulse of blood beneath the surface. Something arrived in her head – she didn't think it, it was just suddenly _there_. "I … I think I understand, other me."

The mirror warped like the surface of water or some other, thicker liquid around their hands. Their fingers tangled and Anzu pulled. Her other self's arms sank into and through her side of the glass, but when they emerged on the other side they were altered – slim hands became wider, stronger, attached to forearms that weren't exactly _muscular_, but which could probably choke you with only a little effort. Dancers' arms were skinny, like stalks of wheat. Anzu remembered being told off once, when she was very small and her mother made her take a swimming course at the local pool so she wouldn't drown if she fell in the canal. Her dance teacher before Miss Odori had shaken a finger and said swimming developed all the wrong muscles for a dancer.

Anzu yanked hand, nails digging into hands that weren't her own. After the arms came an upper body that was definitely not female. A foot appeared as her reflection stepped forward, dragging the rest of the body after it. With a noise like a flame blowing out, it left the mirror and lurched fully into Anzu's little studio.

Yami stared at her.

"Are you really here?" Anzu asked hesitantly. "Are you really … you?"

"I can't be who you want me to be."

Question answered. She heaved a gusty sigh. "I know."

And then the world fell away.

* * *

"So you're finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come round."

A sense of incredulity and muddy relief uncoiled at the back of Anzu's brain. In her left hand, the Puzzle tingled. _"We're alive," _Yami murmured. He coalesced next to her and rubbed his head. _"In a manner of speaking."_

"Yeah."

"_Are you injured?"_

"No. Though I think I should be. No way we should've made it out of that intact."

"_The gods favoured us."_

"Or the God Cards." They were in her right hand, facedown and one on top of the other. She'd stared at them for what seemed like an age while waiting for Yami to re-emerge from the Puzzle.

The beach they'd somehow landed on was covered in pale sand and lined with exotic plants. It looked like something off a picture postcard, complete with sparkling blue sea and small white clouds floating in a perfect sky. Anzu had stared at the view while she dried out – which didn't take long in the bright sunshine. Despite the sky, the air was like air right after a storm, washed out and redolent of great energies just expended. The sea looked like a mirror. It was all very beautiful.

Dartz had said that beauty was impermanent, just like everything else good in the world. Pain, misery and hatred – they were the always-theres, the eternal. He'd watched the world for over ten thousand years, and all he'd been able to see was the dark. To him, hope wasn't so much a virtue as an elaborate hoax.

Anzu wasn't infallible. There were times she'd wanted to give up, times she'd thought almost the same thing as Dartz – that life was pain, and anyone who said different was selling something. She knew that, had he tried to break her the way he'd broken Valon, Raphael, Amelda and countless others through the centuries, she would've broken. She wasn't strong enough to resist him.

And yet … and yet she couldn't bring herself to believe that there was no such thing as hope. Nothing came without a price, but that could just as easily be flipped on its head. Seto Kaiba was a heartbeat away from being a complete misanthrope, but even he cared about his brother beyond all sense or reason. Pegasus had stolen souls and done terrible things, but he'd once loved so deeply that he still held up that time as a standard by which the rest of his life was measured.

Yami hunkered down beside her. It was the first time – outside of life-threatening world-saving shenanigans – that they'd been reunited since the Oricalcos pulled them apart. For a second Anzu was back in the desert with a funnel of green around her, and she shivered, hands tightening around the God Cards and Millennium Puzzle.

"_Anzu?"_

She should've been angry. She'd lost her soul for him.

But she was done being mad with Yami – for the time being, at least. Good things were impermanent. And Yami? He was a good thing.

Mostly.

She didn't _like_ holding grudges – not usually – but still, just letting go of the feelings like that felt weird, almost like she was martyring herself for something. Forgive and forget – it wasn't as easy as Yuugi made it look. Maybe this was how he felt all the time, just letting the crappy feelings go, never letting the bad stuff stick. Of all the people in the world, Yuugi was the only one Anzu would consider able to resist Dartz's worldview. Not for the first time, she wondered whether Yuugi might've been a better choice as Yami's partner.

She'd had over a year to get used to the idea that she wouldn't ever _know_ Yami. And while she knew more than she had, knowing more didn't mean understanding more. Except when it did, and even then … things were complicated.

And maybe … maybe that _wasn't _such a terrible thing.

Duellist Kingdom would still have happened if she never solved the Millennium Puzzle. Battle City would still have gone ahead, because hey, Kaiba had behavioural problems and an ego the size of China long before they met him. A whole range of things might have been better – more _normal _– had Yami remained trapped.

But then again, things could have been so much worse, too. Ghostly images of Dartz's bi-coloured eyes flitted across Anzu's mind, as did Ryou's eyes, sharpened by the presence of the Millennium Ring's spirit within him.

There was no use in obsessing over any of it – not anymore. They'd come too far and been through too much to let their all-too-human frailties bring them down now, and sitting there, staring at the sea, Anzu had come to an important decision: Whatever didn't kill her may not make her stronger, but it wouldn't make her weaker, either. She wouldn't let it.

They'd saved the world. They'd saved the freakin' _world. _

"I'm okay," she said, levering herself to her feet. "I …Yami?"

"_Yes?"_

This was the perfect opportunity for a stirring speech; maybe something about the merits of friendship and having faith in each other. She had enough evidence now for it to really _mean _something, but instead all she said was, "Thank you."

"_I think I should be the one thanking you. And asking for forgiveness."_

"Yami, you just helped save the world. I think you did enough to merit th- Yami?"

He was staring out to sea like he was afraid he'd go blind tomorrow and have nothing good to remember. She followed the line of his gaze, but all she could see was the horizon.

"_We should find out where we are," _he murmured at last. _"And find the others."_

"Yeah. Yeah, we probably should."

The air tasted salty. Anzu let go of the Puzzle and tucked the God Cards back into her deck. Her hair, clothes and skin stank of seawater, and she felt like she hadn't bathed or eaten in days. "When was the last time you ate?" she asked abruptly.

"_Excuse me?" _Yami blinked and looked at her, perplexed. _"I … yesterday? Maybe?"_

"That'd explain why my stomach's trying to crawl up my throat and eat my tongue. Honestly, I can't leave you in charge for five minutes, can I?"

It took a moment, but the smile came – the _real_ smile – and something warm crept over Anzu's brain. It made her think of candyfloss and cold evenings combatted with hot beverages and central heating. She could get used to that feeling. It tasted sort of like a hug might.

"_Stupid aibou."_

* * *

**FINIS.**

* * *

_But in his delicate form – a dream of love,_

_Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast_

_Long'd for a deathless lover from above,_

_And madden'd in that vision – are exprest_

_All that ideal beauty ever bless'd,_

_The mind within its most unearthly mood,_

_When each conception was a heavenly guest – _

_A ray of immortality – and stood,_

_Starlike, around, until they gathered to a god!_

-- Canto IV: Verse 162, from _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, by Byron.

* * *

**Side-flings, Homages and Downright Rip-offs **

"_A little emotionally constipated, maybe, and boy howdy, can he wax lyrical on the benefits of friendship when he's got a card in his hand. Our little leading lady has got some competition there, methinks."_

-- This is something I've never understood. Anzu is famous for her friendship speeches, but Yami is far, far worse for this sort of thing. Go on, watch your average episode. Count how many times he makes some comment about friends and friendship. Do it. He's a bloody broken record.

_Why oh why had she left the Millennium Tauk at home? At least if she'd had it she could've blamed herself for not checking out what the future held and seeing this coming._

-- This works for Yuugi in the anime, too.

"_But if you screw this up – if you give in again, I'll be waiting in the afterlife to … to do something really unspeakable to you!"_

-- Ever had that? You're in a perfect situation to really hit home with a witty comment … and you can't think of a damn thing. Yeah, me too.

_She couldn't forgive him for deteriorating into a lesser person …_

-- Line liberated from the crime novel _Body of Evidence_, by Patricia D. Cornwell.

"_Everything will be okay."_

-- I think this (or something very like it) was the motto of Yoh Asakura, the protagonist of Shaman King (also dubbed by 4Kids, who use pretty much the same voice actors as inhabit the YGO dub).

"_Okay … oxygen becoming an issue."_

-- One of Willow's lines (of which she had many) in the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer _episode _Doppelgängland._

… _that potted aspidistra Miss Odori insisted sit in the corner._

-- One of the longstanding effects of reading InterNutter's works is dropping cameos of aspidistras into fics. I don't really understand her fascination with them, or why they're following me around, but they are, so here you go. Consider it homage to one of the first really good fanfic authors I ever found on the Net.

_But wait. Hadn't she stopped going to Miss Odori's when she was eleven?_

-- Miss Odori is a lingering echo of my old (unfinished) YGO fic _Dandelion Days_. Odori is Japanese for 'dance'. I think. It was a while ago when I first wrote her and had to look it up. Props to those who recognised her.

"_Something isn't right here."_

-- Not quite what Miss Clavel kept saying in the film version of _Madeline _("Something … is not right.") but close enough.

_There was just a room like a dance studio, with a barre and a piano, a potted aspidistra and a desk with framed photographs on it. _

-- This is pretty much what Anzu's Soul Room looks like in the manga – complete with photograph of the Statue of Liberty.

_Use the Force, young Mazaki. _

-- If you didn't know that was a _Star Wars _side-fling, then shame on you! No cookie!

_… life was pain, and anyone who said different was selling something._

-- Taken from _The Princess Bride._

_Seto Kaiba was a heartbeat away from being a complete misanthrope, but even he cared about his brother beyond all sense or reason._

-- A misanthrope is someone who hates humanity and humankind. Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, more famously known as the playwright Molière, wrote a famous French play called _The Misanthrope _–though if you're going to read Molière I'd suggest starting with _The Hypochondriac_. You can get really cheap versions published by Nick Hern Books (NHB) that are just the right size to fit into the average pocket. Hey, _Culture in My Pocket_! Maybe I'll market the idea and make millions!

_Anzu had come to an important decision: Whatever didn't kill her may not make her stronger, but it wouldn't make her weaker, either. She wouldn't let it._

-- My last thought isn't linked to a specific moment, but to the fic in general. It should be evident from the very beginning that these are not the versions of the characters we know from the manga and anime. Differences between those two incarnations aside, _the characters themselves _remain the same here, but there _are _differences prompted by the events of the narrative. I'd just like to point that out before anyone starts biting my head off for writing them OOC (out of character).

To take the most obvious example, Anzu changes over the course of the fic, from someone resembling the Anzu of the manga and anime to a rather more abrasive and cynical personality. She does still believe in the power of friendship, and she puts tremendous faith in that power on several occasions. However, she doesn't rely on it as much as she does in the canon. No more being a receptacle for background noise and positive thinking for this girl. She changes, not because she wants to, but because she has to. She is forced to accept that Yuugi isn't the complete innocent she thought he was (although he's still cringe-makingly clumsy in social situations), that Mai maybe isn't as strong and capable as she makes out, and that Ryou has more secrets than just the Millennium Ring.

Incidentally, the Ring is most likely back with Ryou by the end of the fic. Whether intentionally or not, he probably (and possibly under the lingering effects of the spirit's mesmerism) unearthed it from Anzu's room and took it home with him after the reporter siege. Since all _she _wants to do is forget it exists, and since Yami assured her it was no longer a threat, she probably wouldn't check on it all that often.

Anzu's relationship with Yami is what really changes her. She isn't Yuugi. Even in her canon incarnation, she isn't as accommodating and charitable as Yuugi is, so it stands to reason she wouldn't react to being possessed the same way he does.

Canon!Yuugi is ingenuous enough that he looks on Yami's presence as a gift and means of gaining and keeping friends. Yami is his protector, confidante and trusted advisor. Anzu isn't and doesn't. Plus, her dynamic with Yami is _substantially _different than the dynamics between canon!Yami and either canon!Yuugi or canon!Anzu. Living with Yami can't be an easy experience when he's _not _in love with you. You'd have to concentrate on the logicalities of sharing yourself with another person. And be honest – would you be totally comfortable with that?

Think about it – he's there practically all the time. When you're shaving your armpits in the shower, when you're making an arse of yourself singing into a hairbrush, when you're trying to do homework, when you're on the toilet – All. The. Time. And even when he's taking a timeout in the Puzzle, there's always the chance he'll pop out while you're in the middle of loofahing the fungus from your foot, or picking your nose, or doing something you never wanted other people to see. Ever. There is no privacy. People seem to forget this when they write about possession (especially in YGO) and it pisses me off. Possession isn't all shared feelings and moments of comfort. There are long stretches of not speaking to each other, blazing arguments over who gets to be in control now, and other unpleasant things. Yami isn't some noble person who always puts the feelings of others before his own. Even in canon he can be selfish and arrogant.

Yuugi manages to change this simply by being himself and letting his personality rub off on Yami. I'm not sure he ever realises he's doing/done it. Anzu argues with him and, as Yami himself acknowledges, 'fights him at every turn'. Yet this seems to work – for both of them.

Through her interactions with Yami, Anzu gains a greater appreciation of both the meaning of friendship, and a healthier way of caring about those she loves. Likewise, Yami files down some of his rougher edges by being in and observing Anzu's life. She is the total antithesis to everything he embodies, from her views on killing and means justifying ends, to her relationship with her parents and the tendency towards guilt and a desire to fix the world's problems only lightly touched on in the canon – not to mention the obvious: her gender. Though they don't always get along (no giggling over his sultry voice for this Anzu), they work. It's like bananas and wholemeal toast – you wouldn't think they'd go well together, but they do. It's not romantic – each knows too much about the other to find them attractive – but by the end of the fic they've moved beyond pity and protecting the landlady for one's own self-interest. They do care about each other, as Yami's last line attests. They just have a very unpredictable and idiosyncratic relationship.

There are other major things that secede this timeline from the canon – the catching of Mai's problems post-Battle City, the absences of Jounouchi and Honda from the 'Inner Circle', and Shizuka's subsequent blindness to name but a few – but it's the subtle changes in character relationships that make the difference, and Yami and Anzu exemplify this far more than any other characters. Some people may say this strays too far from the canon versions of the characters to be worth anything, but Yami and Anzu's partnership is a fascinating thing (a variation on a theme, if you will) that I thoroughly enjoyed looking at while writing this fic, and which I hope you enjoyed reading about, too.

Thanks for sticking with it, those who got this far. And thank you for indulging this old cynic and her kinks.

As ever, reviews longed-for.


	6. Meanwhile

**A/N:** Because I'm weak.

* * *

_**Unforsaken: Teaser Trailer**_

© Scribbler, 2006.

* * *

So what exactly _did_ happen while Anzu was gone during Chapter Five?

* * *

**Yami**

The parts of the world that hadn't already gone to hell were well on their way. Yami was too wrapped up in his own drama to care that in losing to Raphael he'd done more than just lose Anzu – he'd actually _helped _Dartz to fuel the Leviathan's resurrection. That the apocalypse was rolling towards them with alarming speed seemed almost _trivial_.

**Yuugi**

Otogi had tried to talk to Yuugi when he came back in, but after the first few rebuffs he stopped. It was pointless to talk to the little guy right now. Yuugi had the single desire for his best friend to be safe and with him. Beyond that, anything else was just an invasion he was determined to sidestep.

**Ryou**

Briefly, he wondered if it hurt, having your soul removed. Maybe it was like having your appendix or your tonsils out. He'd had an appendectomy when he was ten, and his scar had only twinged when he laughed or moved too quickly. Having his soul crushed under the weight of the Spirit, fighting against it and being squashed anyway, _that _had hurt – a deep-seated, limitless pain that was hard to describe to anyone who hadn't also experienced it.

**Mai**

She drew her blazer tighter, even though the air wasn't so chill anymore. It was a defensive posture, but that was okay because there was nobody out here to see it. That was one useful thing about the desert, at least – when you wanted to be alone, you were really _alone_.

**Otogi**

Otogi hadn't even quibbled about Rebecca's age and immaturity when he met her, he'd just asked something about the stock exchange and then nodded with a little half-smile when she shot back the correct answer. He never showed any outward signs that it was odd to defer to a prepubescent for technical advice.

**Rebecca**

Still, there had to be _something_ to the story. With all that had happened in the past few days – all over the world – there was enough evidence to dictate _something _screwy was going on. Why not add some spirits and ancient magick to all of that? It was no more far-fetched than some of the conspiracy theories she'd read on Internet message boards.

* * *

_To Be Continued in **Unforsaken**._

* * *


End file.
